Vol 3: Adorn the Heavens Bright
by the-casket-girls
Summary: 9 years ago, Aeron works more intensely on his flying and tries to figure out where he fits in this world now that he's … well, trying to fit in this world. Now, Hope journeys to the Night Court in search of answers, more questions, answers to those questions, and probably some more opportunities to prove herself as Chaotic Evil. ((Vol. 3 of "Oblivion Hymns"))
1. Prologue

**Vol. 3 for your reading pleasure! Unbeta'd.**

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PROLOGUE

 _Floating Away in Every Direction_

 _Nine years ago …_

Aeron zipped up the last of his bags, shouldering a satchel and pulling out the handle on his suitcase. The duffel on his bed, full of unaltered shirts to fit him without his wings, was newly acquired, stuffed with the product of Caroline and Rebekah's frenzied shopping, with some input from a very bored Kol.

In spite of Kol's apparent horror at shopping, Aeron found he didn't mind it. Caroline and Rebekah had been thrilled at outfitting him in new shirts, always making him turn around "just to check there aren't any holes". Aeron was pretty sure Caroline was trying not to applaud every time she saw his wingless back.

He could only pray that Hope hadn't noticed. She was still a little touchy about people praising his new talent at the expense of insulting his wings. He tried to tell her she didn't need to be sensitive on his behalf, especially when he himself was excited by the new development, but she just went quiet each time.

In spite of Hope's reticence, Aeron had easily been swept up in the furor, thanking Caroline gladly for her time and money. She'd promptly dismissed his thanks and started talking about when the appropriate time would be to have him measured for a suit.

"All packed and ready to go?"

Aeron looked up to see Marcel leaning in the doorway, one hand stuffed in the pocket of his jeans and the other stretched out as though he had intended to knock on the door frame.

Nodding quickly, Aeron said, "Yeah, but I can take it all down."

"No problem," dismissed Marcel, ducking past him. "You take that, I'll grab the duffel." He scooped up the bag, slinging it over his back and gesturing for Aeron to go on ahead of him.

Out at the minibus, Caroline had a clipboard in hand and was ticking items off a list while Klaus piled bags into the bus. Josie and Liam were lined up with all their bags, and Aeron joined the queue.

"Where's your laptop bag?" Caroline asked Josie.

"In my suitcase. I figured I didn't need to carry it separately."

"You're _sure_?"

"I'm sure, Mom. Geez."

"Fine, fine. You're good." Caroline ticked off the items on her list. "Go and double-check your bedroom, any bathroom you used, and all living areas."

"Seriously? I have everything—"

"Josette Louise, don't make me ask twice."

Josie rolled her eyes and stomped off to do as she was told, winking at Aeron on her way. She loved antagonising her mother.

Liam went through quickly, receiving a ruffle on the head from Caroline after presenting all of his bags. He flounced off to double-check for anything left behind, and Aeron stepped up.

"Well, hello, Aeron," greeted Caroline, flipping pages over from the back of the clipboard so she could find his name right at the top of her list. Apparently she had it alphabetised. "Suitcase and satchel?" she asked, eyeing him even as she ticked the items off.

"And bonus duffel," Marcel contributed, tossing it over Aeron's head and right at Klaus, who was elbow-deep in the luggage compartment of the minibus. Klaus blurred as he spun around to catch it, glaring at a chuckling Marcel.

"All good," chirped Caroline. "You can go inside and hang out, if you want. We're leaving in ten, so maybe do an extra check to see if you left anything?"

"Already done."

Marcel clucked his tongue. "Look at you, being all efficient and helpful."

Klaus took the suitcase and satchel from Aeron. "Satchel on your seat or stowed with everything else?"

"Ah, seat, please."

Klaus rounded the minibus, clambering in to set the satchel on Aeron's assigned seat. "Hope, get out of the driver's seat," Aeron heard Klaus say. "We're leaving soon."

Klaus and Hope both piled out. The rest of the family was spilling from inside the compound, having finished their final Caroline-mandated checks.

"Okay, we have everything?" Caroline asked, receiving sounds of agreement from everyone else. "And does anyone need to pee?"

Silence.

"If we get halfway up the road and any of you change your minds, I have an empty bottle in the glovebox with your names on it," Klaus said.

" _All_ of our names?" asked Josie. "It must be a big bottle."

James sighed and turned to go back inside and pee.

"We'd best get the goodbyes started," said Caroline. "God knows that'll take a half an hour."

What ensued was a logistically complicated affair involving ducking under outstretched arms and identifying who had and hadn't been embraced yet. Aeron stayed to the side, unsure of his position until Marcel approached him, hugging and patting him on the back. "You ever get sick of that boring ass school, you let me know, okay?"

Aeron returned the embrace. "I will."

Rebekah was next, smiling and letting her hands linger over his hair. She'd cut it in the communal bathroom the night before, babbling about city gossip while Aeron tried not to feel asleep at the feeling of hands in his hair. "Let me know when your hair gets long enough for me to justify another cut and I'll pop down for a visit, all right?" Before he could reply, she looked to Caroline and said, "Oi. Get the boy a cell phone, would you?"

"Yes, _Mom_." The look they exchanged reminded Aeron of Josie and Hope.

Davina trotted up to him, gripping him by the shoulders and pressing a kiss to his cheek. "It was nice to meet you, Aeron. I apologise for my husband."

"Hey!" objected the aforementioned husband, tucking an arm around his wife and nodding at Aeron. "See you around, bud."

Davina snorted. " _Bud_?"

"I know, I know. I was just trying it out."

Elijah shook his hand next, the grip firm. When they parted they both looked to Hope and Hayley, who were still wrapped up in one another.

"We'll come and visit soon, stay for a while, I promise," Hayley was saying, hunched over her daughter's smaller frame.

Hope didn't reply, just burrowed deeper into her mother. Aeron had seen how close they were during their visit, but he hadn't imagined that it would hurt Hope to leave. She hadn't betrayed any apprehension in their conversations, at least.

James returned, receiving a group hug from all the New Orleans locals, and Caroline announced that it was time to go. They piled into the minibus, Klaus driving while Hope sat up in the front near him. Caroline sat near Aeron, just across the aisle from him, and he pretended not to notice that she was watching him as they drove away.

They got ten minutes down the road before Josie announced that she needed to pee.

* * *

 _Now …_

Hope couldn't tell if it was windy or not.

She'd been running for hours at breakneck speed without tiring, only stopping briefly to eat and drink before starting back up again. She'd donned better-fitted clothes from the temple, suited to travel and movement, boots that moulded almost perfectly to her feet. Her steps were light and quick, faster than she'd ever been before she activated her curse.

She ran to the rhythm of the heartbeat in her belly, one step for every other squelching beat of her baby's heart.

She had to catch the acolyte. She had to stop her from spreading word to others, from exposing Hope's secret.

Hope ran with a secret in her belly, urging her on with every beat.

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 **Act I due 06/08/2017!**


	2. Act I

**Act I for you guys! Unbeta'd.**

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ACT ONE

 _Before the Celebration_

 _Nine years ago …_

Aeron soared through the water, wings outstretched. He pulled them in tight as he approached the end of the pool, somersaulting and pushing off from the wall to restart his journey.

A journey he was getting faster and faster at each time.

He went for five more laps before resurfacing, panting heavily. He often forgot to sneak up for air, too enthralled in the feeling of his wings slicing through the water like blades. It wasn't until his lungs started burning that he was forced to turn his head toward the surface, but even that was begrudging.

Caroline was seated on the edge of the pool, dressed to swim but completely dry. She always came prepared to join him, but he needed space to learn to maneuver his wings, and she gave him that.

"Nearly done?" she asked as he waded toward her.

His back muscles were beginning to get sore and the clock on the far wall said it had been two hours since their arrival, so Aeron replied, "Yeah, think so."

Caroline stood, helping pull him up out of the water. "You did great. Get dressed and meet me at the car?"

Aeron nodded, scooping up his bag as he padded toward the bathroom block.

—

The drive back was uneventful. Aeron had long since gotten used to driving, feeling less and less sick as time bore on. He doubted he'd ever be completely comfortable with it, but as he wasn't game enough to try winnowing, it was his best option.

It was almost noon by the time they pulled back into the Armory. It was a weekend, one of the first since school had gone back, and most of the students were out on the back lawn. No one was permitted on the front lawn because that was where vehicles came in and out, though Aeron knew plenty of the kids ignored that rule when the teachers' backs were turned.

As they pulled into the parking lot to the side of the main building, Caroline noted the sleek sportscar beside them. "Looks like Elijah and Hayley are here," she said, putting the car in park. "Let's go say hi."

—

They followed the din of voices to the dining hall. The large bay maries and serving station was being prepared for lunch, but it hadn't happened yet.

Elijah, Hayley, Hope, Lizzie, and Alaric were all congregated around one of the tables. The newcomers stood when they spotted Caroline, moving to embrace her in turn. Aeron received two solid handshakes, one from each of them.

"How was your drive?" Caroline asked as they walked over to the table. Aeron followed, not feeling quite as awkward as he once would have.

"If I ever have to listen to Tchaikovsky again, I might actually die," Hayley said.

Elijah sighed. "No taste whatsoever. And yet I endure the best of Taylor Swift for half of our road trips at least, if not more."

"Taylor Swift is a classic!"

"Tchaikovsky is literally _classical music_ ," Alaric pointed out.

Hayley elbowed him. "Oh, shut up, you."

"Where is the lovely Josette this fine morning?" asked Elijah.

"Saturday detention," said Hope. "She set fire to the lab."

"Not on purpose," Caroline clarified.

"Well, it wasn't an accident," muttered Lizzie.

Caroline frowned. "What?"

"Never mind."

"Well, I look forward to greeting her when her internment is ended." Elijah turned his attention to Aeron. "You've been swimming this morning, I see."

Aeron nodded as Caroline said, "He's doing really well. Could give Michael Phelps a run for his money."

"Michael Phelps is ancient," contributed Hope.

Caroline rolled her eyes at her stepdaughter, but it seemed in good fun. "Fine—he could defeat Michael Phelps at the height of his career. Better?"

Hope shrugged. "I guess."

"So, we're having a big dinner to welcome you guys tonight," said Caroline. "Ric's cooking, and Bonnie and Matt are coming over to say hi. I figured you guys would want to settle in pretty early after the day of travel, so I arranged for Family Game Night to happen tomorrow night."

"I didn't know you changed that," said Hope. "I have plans."

"And what plans might they be?" asked Hayley.

"I'm going out," said Hope, flushing a little. "With a friend."

Caroline chuckled. "I hope you cleared it with your dad."

"Yeah, he's fine. I just have to check in with him every hour."

"What kind of friend?" asked Hayley.

"Just—a friend."

"Then why aren't your sisters going with you?"

Lizzie, for her part, was studiously avoiding anyone's gaze, inspecting the ceiling instead.

"Because it's not a—y'know, it's not a group thing."

Caroline smirked. "Is it—y'know, a date?"

"No, it's just … friends. Hanging out."

Every adult in the room exchanged a look in what had to be an orchestrated move.

"Right, sweetie," said Hayley, patting her daughter's arm. "But while you're updating your father every hour, you'll be updating me every half hour."

Hope's indignation was drowned out by the laughter that lit up the table.

—

 _Now …_

Crossing over the border into the Night Court was anticlimactic.

It was high noon and Hope had half been expecting the world to change from day to night as she stepped into the new territory; instead, she simply felt the shimmer of shifting magic, the change from one Court to the next like breaking through the tape at a finish line.

She gave herself no time to examine her surroundings, the forest, the ominously greying sky, the new magic slipping over her skin—she had no time. She doubled her pace and forged on.

—

Unlike the one she'd stopped at in the Middle, the villages in the Night Court actually functioned like villages. The streets were bustling with lesser fae going about their business, strolling past shopfronts with beady eyes, running into friends and acquaintances and stopping to chat in the middle of the road.

Hope dodged one such cluster, rolling her eyes at their enthusiasm. No one was that excited to run into people in public, not even in fairyland.

With her hood firmly up over her head, Hope ducked into a sweets shop, thumbing a few coins from the pouch at her waist. She selected the first sweets she saw (hard, butter-yellow candies) and watched as the shopkeeper, a stout female with feathers sprouting from her bare back, wrapped them up in paper.

Hope dropped a handful of coins onto the counter, and from the way the female's eyes widened this was more than enough for her purchase. "I'm sorry, miss," Hope said, trying to sound bashful. In retrospect, she probably should have pulled her hood down if only to look less suspicious. "I was hoping you might help give me directions."

The shopkeeper was busy stuffing the coins into a box when she said, "Yes, of course, of course. Where are you headed?"

"I'm on a pilgrimage, actually. I was hoping to get to the High Priestesses and ask for their blessings. What's the quickest route there?"

"The quickest is through the forest just west, but the easiest for travel is the road headed out of town. It'll take you right there, just the long way 'round."

The forest it was, then. "Thank you so much," said Hope. She strolled out just as more customers ducked in.

—

Hope ran with hell on her heels and the taste of bad candy in the back of her throat.

She'd gone across the woods, barely sleeping for three hours the night before. The air was muggy, heavy with mist after the rain that had fallen overnight and soaked her to the bone, but she didn't stop, letting her head spin and her mouth water as she ran through the mist, feet slapping clumsily through puddle after puddle. She slipped down one hill, then another, pulling herself up out of the muck each time, using the mud to plaster her hair back from her face as she powered on.

By the time she found a road Hope was soaked once more from falling into a creek, a gash running over her chin where she'd been slapped in the face by a tree branch.

The temple was visible on a crest up ahead, the same size as the one in Summer but made of white stone that shone in the daylight.

Retreating back into the trees, Hope stalked toward the temple, ducking from tree to tree until she was right by it. Just as she had in Summer, Hope clambered up a tree to get a better look at the lay of the land.

Though the temple seemed to be structured much the same as the one in Summer, there were no skylights for her to sneak in through. There were windows, but she figured they were all locked, and they were set in wooden frames attached to the stone, so it wouldn't be so easy to remove them. She'd have to go in through one of the doors and make quick work of it.

Of course, she realised as she heard horses approaching down the road, their force of Grey Guard members weren't dead. They were alive, well, and ready to defend the temple.

Falling back against the trunk, Hope closed her eyes and tried to think. She heard the approaching guards arrive, leave their horses to be stabled by some servants, and enter the temple.

When she opened her eyes, there was no one to be seen.

If the acolyte was there, she'd already have told them. They may have sent other scouts out to inform more temples, or worse, the High Lords. She'd been so focused on Jora and his soldiers and their plot for her baby that she hadn't yet considered the sheer number of people that would kill her just to stop his plot from coming to fruition.

Just as she was sizing up the temple to attack it, more approaching hoofbeats sounded. This time, there was only one set.

Hope whirled around, jumping to a lower branch that gave her a better view.

A female was approaching, dressed in a dark blue cloak with—surely enough—the white linen of an acolyte's dress poking from beneath it.

It had to be her.

Hope dumped her pack, draping it over a branch so she wouldn't lose it. Rolling her shoulders, she stood, leaping to grip onto another tree branch, then another, until she was close enough to jump onto the road.

As the acolyte passed beneath her, she struck, sending one of her daggers right at the horse's throat. As the beast buckled, sending the acolyte sprawling, Hope dropped down, landing with a roll and ending up with her knee on the female's chest, just as she had with the other acolyte in Summer. She was High Fae with dark hair, milk-white skin and green eyes blown wide with fear, then anger.

"Hello, there," Hope greeted.

" _Witch,"_ spat the acolyte, struggling against her hold. She tried to twist her head to look in the direction of the temple. "Help! Someone, please, help m—"

"They can't hear you," Hope said mildly. "I silenced this whole area."

" _Bitch."_

"I don't know if that's an improvement on _witch_ , but I'll allow it. Now …" She dug her knee in further. "Who have you told about the baby?"

"Just kill me," said the acolyte. "You might as well, because it doesn't matter. You can't keep this secret forever."

"I can try."

"No, you can't. You don't understand the magic of this world, do you? Nothing stays secret for long. Someone will always find out."

Her certainty chilled Hope to the bone. "How would they find out? If you were dead, and I hunted down Jora and the rest of his soldiers, how would they know?"

"There are ways to uncover secrets here, witch. Nothing stays buried."

This was becoming useless. Hope flicked her remaining dagger from its sheath. "Maybe not," she said. "But you will."

She drove the dagger home.

—

 _Then …_

The sound of piano filtering through the walls was apparently a near-constant presence when Elijah was visiting. Some of the children liked gathering around and making requests at recess, so Aeron steered clear then, but in the late afternoons when they were all busy with homework and various extracurriculars he felt fairly safe walking down into the common area and sitting in an armchair nearby, pretending to read a book while listening to the music.

On one such afternoon, the music halted abruptly, causing Aeron to look up from the book he wasn't reading. Elijah had taken a break, sipping at a tumbler of water he kept above the piano. He caught Aeron's eye over the piano and smiled at him, taking one last sip and setting the glass down again.

"Do you have any favourites?" he asked.

Aeron's hands tightened on his book. "I—I don't really know their names."

"Then let's figure out which one it is." Elijah tilted his head, gesturing for Aeron to come closer. "You can drag one of the other chairs up, if you like."

Setting his book aside, Aeron took one of the wooden chairs from the tables and dragged it over. This was typically a study area, but most of the kids did their homework in their rooms.

Once Aeron was situated, Elijah turned to him and asked, "Do you have a favourite?"

Aeron nodded.

"What does it sound like?"

He flushed a little. "You want me to sing it?"

"Do you not want to?"

He'd never sung before, and he didn't think he'd be any good at it. "Not really."

"Then can you describe how it makes you feel?"

It took him a moment, but he did come up with something. "It makes me feel thoughtful."

Resting his hands against the keys, Elijah looked at Aeron as he began to play. "This one?"

Aeron shook his head. "No, it's … not as sad as that. But I do like that one."

"Get some paper and a pencil."

Doing as instructed, Aeron returned, balancing the paper against his knee with the pencil poised to write. He hadn't done much writing since his lessons Under the Mountain, and it felt odd in his fingers.

"If you like a song, you can write the title down," said Elijah. "That way, you'll remember next time."

"I'm not sure if I'll remember them all."

"Then make two columns. Write the title in one, and how it makes you feel in the other. No piece is the same, and no piece will evoke the same emotion. The one I just played was the 2nd Movement from Bach's 'Orchestral Suite No. 3 in D Major'."

Aeron made a note of it, handwriting sloppy on the soft paper (he really needed a book to press against). In the opposite column, he wrote, _Sad, thoughtful,_ and _melancholy._

"Let's try another," said Elijah, launching into another song. "'Tocatta and Fugue in D Minor'. Bach, again. Is it the one you're looking for?"

"No. It makes me feel more … suspicious."

"Write it down."

Aeron did as instructed, finishing just as Elijah began another piece.

"This one," said Aeron. "This is the one I was talking about."

"Good choice," said Elijah. "'Gymnopedie No. 1' by Satie. Very introspective."

As he made the note, Aeron marked it with a star.

Elijah kept playing as he said, "So you're a fan of music, then."

"I hadn't really heard much of it before," Aeron admitted. "My mother didn't think it was necessary, I suppose."

"Do you think it's necessary?"

"I … think it's nice."

Elijah finished the song off with flair, though Aeron got the feeling that he'd cut a section out of it to make it shorter. He turned on the piano stool, facing Aeron head on. "Would you like to learn to play?"

Looking between Elijah and the piano and back again, Aeron raised an eyebrow. "I … I don't think I can do that."

"Not right away, but you can learn. Do you want me to teach you?"

"Um—when?"

"During the day, most likely. While the children are in classes, if you prefer, but they do still sometimes use this area when they're on study breaks."

"I can … I can play while they're in here."

Something in Elijah's smile told Aeron that he'd secretly been hoping that was the case. "Well, it's almost time for dinner, but how about we have your first lesson tomorrow morning, nine am?"

"That sounds good to me." Aeron might have tried to play it off like it was no big deal, but really, it was all he could think about. If he could learn to play half as well as Elijah did … well, he'd never even thought about doing anything of the sort.

Maybe he could still learn things here, after all.

—

 _Now …_

Digging the acolyte's grave took hours and several broken nails. Hope spent the night in the woods, sleeping in the cold dark, only to bathe herself in a freezing stream to wash the dirt off when she made her way back toward town.

Whatever the acolyte had been talking about, it wasn't good. Fae magic worked in ways Hope didn't understand—in ways even Aeron hadn't understood—and if there was a way for more people to uncover the truth about this pregnancy … well, that was a problem she'd have to fix by either aborting it as soon as possible or going right to the source of the secrets.

Either option wasn't seeming very appealing by that point.

The woman behind the counter at the tailor's wasn't very pleased with the dirt still caked behind Hope's ears, but the coins Hope had scavenged from the temple in Summer and from the acolyte were more than enough to stay her tongue.

Several dresses, a shirt and pants (tunic and blouse, she corrected herself), and a pair of nice slippers (the formal kind, not the pajama kind) later, Hope was heading out, dressed in a cornflower blue dress and with her bag stuffed full of clothes. It was time to start blending in, if a human could even hope to do so.

The nearest inn was full, but one on the outskirts of town had vacancies. It also had several seedy characters hanging out in the dining area, but she could handle seedy characters.

She could handle them much better after a pint of whatever it was they were drinking, but she stopped herself.

Keeping the glamour firmly over her baby, the heartbeat and change in her scent, Hope made her way down from her tiny, one-bed-and-a-chamber-pot room and into the dining area. The meal had been purchased with her room (and she was fairly sure the innkeeper had swindled her), so she simply had to accept a bowl of meatless stew and a tankard of water that tasted foul and find somewhere to sit.

A group of male fae was congregated at one of the corners in the table, laughing and banking their tankards together. A couple, a male and female, were dining further away from them, eyeing them uncomfortably.

Bingo.

Hope walked over to them, affecting an air of nervousness. "Hello," she said, smiling a little. "Do you mind if I … sit with you?" She made a show of glancing back at the raucous group in the corner, biting her lip.

"Of course," said the female, a High Fae with an angular face and the pinkest hair Hope had ever seen. And she'd lived through Josie's run of the rainbow hair dye section at the local Walmart, so that was saying something. She shifted aside to make room for Hope to pull up a chair. "We'd best stick together if we want to escape with our drinks untouched," she added just as the group began demanding more ale.

Hope seated herself gingerly, maintaining the appearance of an innocent, wide-eyed human. No one had accosted her too much yet (other than the obvious suspects), so she had to assume that humans weren't entirely uncommon in this area. "I'm Helen," she said. "It's nice to meet you both."

"I'm Orin," said the male. Hope had assumed he was High Fae like his companion, but a glimpse at his crimson eyes and sharp teeth told her otherwise. "And this is my mate, Elfrea."

"You're mates?" Hope asked, looking between them. "That's so lovely."

"You wouldn't have met many mated pairs, would you?" asked Elfrea. "Humans don't have them."

"No, we don't." _But I do, and I'm not human._ "But I've heard such stories. What's it like, being mated?" She made a show of blushing and looking down at her food. "If you don't mind my asking."

"Of course not," said Orin, his tone warm. "Curiosity is a natural thing. Many of our own kind have asked us much the same."

"Mates aren't common?"

"Not entirely, no," said Elfrea. "You haven't been in Prythian long, have you?"

Hope grinned at her. "Was it my complete lack of knowledge that tipped you off?"

Elfrea's laugh was like a song. "Something like that."

"So, what is it like, being mates?" Hope pressed, even as a plan formed in her mind. She'd been expecting to face surly, drunk men, not a chirpy couple. She could make this work.

Little by little, she let her glamour slip away.

"It's like … being whole," said Orin. "In the best way."

Elfrea was looking upon her mate with fondness. "You'll never feel alone again."

"That's so lovely," said Hope. She tried to ignore how it reminded her of Aeron, her own mate, all alone in a whole other world.

Then again, ignoring it might not be what she wanted here.

Letting the feeling wash over her, Hope used it to fuel the tears that pricked at the backs of her eyes. Elfrea saw them the moment they formed and reached out to touch her arm.

"Are you all right?" she asked, looking into Hope's eyes worriedly.

Hope wiped at her tears with the sleeve of her new dress. "I just … it sounds so lovely to be certain of who you love, and who loves you. I wish I could say the same."

"You'll find someone," said Orin. "You look young, yet. It took me three hundred years to find Elfie. You still have all the time in the world."

"But, I'm afraid," Hope sniffed, "that I already have found him."

"That's wonderful!" breathed Elfrea.

Hope squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the tears keep coming. "No, it's not," she said, letting the last of the glamour slip. Hopefully they just thought they'd only now noticed it.

From the shock on their faces, it worked.

"I don't mean to be indelicate," began Elfrea, "but, Helen, are you … with child?"

Hope nodded, face crumpling into tears. "I am," she admitted. "It was—it was a big party with lots of fae and I—"

"A revel?" asked Orin. "Like one of the ones in the Dawn Court?"

"Yes, exactly that," said Hope. "I was in Dawn, and I met him and he was—Cauldron, he was the most beautiful man I'd ever seen. And I fell in love with him in moments."

"And what happened next?" prodded Elfrea.

"We spent a glorious evening together, but then he was gone in the morning. I didn't even know his name. And now that I am with child"—she was feeling increasingly like she was living in a Jane Austen novel or something equally ridiculous—"well, I'm trying to find him."

"What court was he from?"

"He didn't mention it, just said he'd travelled there. I know there's really no hope of finding him before the baby comes along, but—well, I thought that maybe there was some sort of fae magic that could help me figure it out? I know so little about this world, but I heard mention of some things that can help people find information they're seeking. Perhaps that might help?"

Orin picked at the remains of his stew. "There's only one creature that could help you with that, and that's the Suriel."

Jackpot. "Where would I find the Suriel?"

"That's … complicated," said Elfrea. "Not many people know how to trap the Suriel and make it answer your questions. One of them dying in the war, and no one's seen any others since."

"How long ago was that?"

"About eight or nine years ago now," said Orin.

"Is there anyone I can ask for more information about the Suriel?"

"You could always ask the Cursebreaker."

"What's that?"

Both Orin and Elfrea looked at her like she was an imbecile. "Feyre Cursebreaker," said Elfrea, slowly. "The High Lady of the Night Court."

 _High Lady?_ Was Rhysand no longer in power here? "Oh, of course," Hope said. "How could I ask her? Surely the High Lady doesn't take audiences with human girls."

Elfrea smiled. "Orin's cousins work for her. He could ask them to get you an audience."

She knew she'd been due for a turn of good luck. "You would do that for me?" she asked Orin.

"It's no hassle," he said, looking bashful. "We're headed toward Velaris for Starfall anyway."

"Starfall?" Aeron had mentioned that before, how he'd always felt the stars falling even when he was locked in his cell. How he'd marked the wall with stars to count the years.

"It's an annual festival in the Night Court," Elfrea explained. "It's in a week, so we're journeying to Velaris for it. You should travel with us!"

"I … I would love to. How much farther is it?"

"Two days along the road. Do you have a horse?"

"No, I don't."

"You can share mine," offered Elfrea.

Hope beamed at her, almost feeling bad for taking advantage of their generosity. "You're too kind."

"It's no problem, really," said Elfrea. "To be honest, it's all a bit exciting, the thought of reuniting you with your lover. Like an adventure novel!"

Hope hid her wince with a smile. "Something like that."

—

 _Then …_

Aeron was playing piano two-handed within a week.

Elijah spoke at length (and quite embarrassingly so) of this newly acquired skill. Apparently Marcel hadn't been a good student when Elijah had attempted to teach him as a child, and all three of the girls had been hopeless for some reason or other (Hope because she was too impatient, Josie because she couldn't follow instruction, and Lizzie because she didn't really know how to relax and let go for any stretch of time).

But Aeron, apparently, was putting them all to shame.

They didn't seem to mind.

So he kept playing at almost every opportunity, sometimes with Elijah's guidance, but increasingly without. He was good at memorising hand movements, understanding the way the notes played together to create emotion, but he hadn't quite mastered reading sheet music yet. It was frustrating and led to stuttered playing, though Elijah insisted that he would be grateful for learning it in the long run.

He experimented with tempo, as well, finding that he could play 'Heart and Soul' at twice the regular speed and end up creating something that sounded like a jig.

He took to practicing in the evenings, the study area being far enough away from the dorms to not cause any problems as far as noise went. On one such night, just as the clock was nearing nine and most of the kids were confined to their dorms, Aeron heard someone enter.

He knew who it was without even turning around, but he did anyway.

"Don't stop on my account," said Hope. She was dressed in a nice sweater and skinny jeans with lace-up boots that looked too flimsy to be of any actual use. Her hair was curled and she wore earrings that dangled rather than the studs she typically preferred.

"How was your evening?"

"You can say 'date', you know," she said, walked over to one of the arm chairs and dropping down into it. "And it was nice. David's a good guy."

"That's good." Truthfully, Aeron knew nothing about the courting practices here. "What did you do?"

"Dinner and a movie. The new Avengers one."

Aeron hadn't watched any Avengers movies, though Josie insisted on making him sit through all of them eventually. "Is that what a normal date is like?"

"I guess so? I don't know, I've never really done it before. And it's only our third one, so I'm not exactly a master." She eyed him thoughtfully. "Why? You thinking of asking someone out?"

Aeron's eyes practically bugged out of his head. "What? No, that's—no. I was just wondering, that's all."

"Do you know much about dating in Prythian, or did you not see any of it?"

"I know a little. Some marriages are arranged, others are love matches. The most respected matches are mates—"

"Mates?"

"Do you not … have those here?"

"Australians call friends 'mates', but no, we don't have them here. It's mostly a term applied to animals. What does it mean for fae? Like, spouses?"

"It's deeper than that. It's a bond chosen by the Mother—"

"She's like your goddess, right?"

"Yeah, she is, though I've never been given the opportunity to worship her."

"So she chooses a mate for everyone?"

"Well, we don't know if everyone has a mate chosen for them. Not a lot of people meet their mate, and that might just be because they spend their lives without crossing paths, or they don't have one to begin with."

"So you don't know if you have a mate, or who they would be?"

"No."

"Seems kinda dumb. I mean, what if you want to find them right away? Or what if you don't want a mate at all? I wouldn't want someone else picking who I end up with."

"You can refuse the bond. You don't have to say yes. It's just usually a good indicator for who you'll fit with, and if you do accept it, it's like a connection between you. You can send each other images, thoughts, sensations, anything you like." He didn't mention that he knew this because his mother had once had him sift through the mind of a mated fae, thus granting him access to his mate's mind as well.

Hope scrunched her nose up. "Still, I wouldn't want to be told who to love."

"And do you love David?"

She snorted. "I barely know David. He doesn't even know that I'm not human. I met him at the grocery store, for god's sake. But he seems decent, so yeah, maybe eventually. And if I do, it'll be my choice. As it should be." She winced. "Wow, that got heavy fast. Play me something good, won't you?"

"What do you want to hear?"

"I don't know, anything. Play that funky music, white boy."

Aeron frowned. "I'm not a white—"

Hope waved a hand. "I know, I know," she said, pulling her phone from her pocket. "It's from a song. Play me something good while I find it on YouTube and then I'll show it to you. You'll like it."

Nodding his agreement of their deal, Aeron turned back to the piano, launching right into his favourite.

He hoped she liked it, too.

—

 _Now …_

Hope did not like travelling.

Not like this, anyway.

She hated horses, vomiting, and sweating, and all three were happening (often at once). Orin and Elfrea were kind to her, stopping whenever she needed. Elfrea even held her hair back once or twice.

They stopped to camp one night. Hope had run out of coin at the last inn they'd stayed at and they had a tent, so they decided to sleep outdoors. She was fairly certain that was because they knew she was broke, but she kept that suspicion to herself.

They were far too kind, really, and that was coming from someone mated to Aeron, the man who only ate quiet foods in the cinema because he didn't want to disturb anyone with loud noises during the film. She never felt like she was an awkward third wheel, and they practically treated her like royalty every time she puked, wetting down cloths from the water in one of the canteens and running it over her forehead. Once or twice she wanted to tell them to leave her be, because it should be them holding back her hair and wiping down her sweaty forehead, it should be her mate. But they were lovely and sincere, and she'd only previously met people trying to use or kill her since she arrived, so she let it be.

That night, under the stars, Orin and Elfrea hunted down some doves and fried up the meat, however slim their pickings were, to have with bread and cheese they had packed. Hope received the biggest serving, something Elfrea insisted on because she was "eating for two". She could have argued easily, but Elfrea's excitement regarding her pregnancy made her feel like more than just the woman carrying the end of the world in her belly.

It reminded her of home.

Orin went to sleep first, disappearing into the tent and leaving the women out by the dying fire. Hope had a blanket and the intention of sleeping under the open sky, however much Elfrea had tried to convince her to sleep in the tent with them. Hope kept her blanket secured over her shoulders more for comfort than anything else, staring at the dying embers as her blinks grew heavier and heavier, beckoning her to sleep.

"You know," began Elfrea, her voice uncharacteristically solemn, "if you don't find him, you'll be all right."

"I'm sure I will be, but that doesn't make it a pleasant thought."

"No, of course not," Elfrea was quick to assure her. "I just mean that we can help you. After Starfall, you could come back with us to our village, and we could help you find a job, something stable until the baby comes."

That couldn't happen, but Elfrea didn't know that. "I have no intention of giving up on my lover."

"You wouldn't have to give up on him, Helen. You could continue making enquiries, seeing what you can find out. I just mean that it might be good to have somewhere more stable to be when the babe comes along."

"Thank you," said Hope. _But I would bring nothing but death to you and yours._ "I'll definitely consider your offer. You've both been … so kind."

"You'd more than earned some kindness, I should think. Travelling all alone, as sick as you've been. I don't know how you managed without us."

Hope's smile was genuine, but she couldn't help the tug in her chest. "Neither do I."

—

All good things come to an end, and all miserable things do, too, which is why their travel was short-lived.

They were riding along a path much like every other they'd been on when Orin announced, "Almost there!" He knew the terrain very well, Hope noted. He'd been born in Velaris long ago, having moved to Elfrea's village when they mated, but he loved returning home. Elfrea confided that his cousins, two part-wraiths that worked in the High Lord's house, were the only family Orin had left, and he missed them dearly when he was away.

They crested a hill, and then it was there.

The jewel of the Night Court.

Elfrea twisted around in the saddle to catch Hope's eye, patting her knee. "Welcome to Velaris."

* * *

 **Act II due 13/08/2017.**


	3. Act II

**Act II for you, lovelies! This one IS beta'd, so don't blame me if there are any glaring errors. (Just kidding, it's still my fault.)**

* * *

ACT TWO

 _A Secret Hiding In the Open_

 _Nine years ago …_

Inevitably, Elijah and Hayley had to depart. Hayley had pack duties and Elijah had several music performances scheduled at various New Orleans bars, so they said their farewells and made promises of phone calls and emails.

Elijah pulled Aeron aside, taking his phone in hand and teaching him quickly how to FaceTime. "We'll use it for your lessons," he said, producing a box with a stand in it. "You can rest your phone up on this and put it on top of the piano so you can see me when I talk to you. You can even adjust it so the phone is facing your hands so I can critique you."

Aeron still hadn't learned how to use his phone properly, in spite of Josie's numerous attempts to teach him, but FaceTiming seemed easy enough. And he really didn't want to stop his lessons.

He hugged Elijah goodbye, something he didn't do very often. Hayley sent him a wave (she still seemed unsure about him, he thought), and then they were gone.

Hope was upset, he could tell. He knew instinctively that her mother leaving was distressing her, but he had no clue what to say. Thankfully, she retreated quickly, pulling her phone out to call her boyfriend, and Aeron was robbed of that responsibility.

He told himself he was thankful. He wasn't, really.

—

After nearly two months of dating, David was due to come over for dinner.

Caroline had set a smaller, informal dining room aside for their meal so they could have it away from other students on a Saturday night. This was more so that David didn't see any magical activity he wasn't supposed to (though Aeron wasn't sure why Hope would spend her time with someone that didn't know how incredible she was with magic when that was such a fundamental part of her nature), but Aeron also wondered if she wanted privacy so Klaus could interrogate his daughter's paramour.

Aeron was surprised to be invited to the dinner. It was Caroline, Klaus, the twins, Hope, and David, and Aeron felt somewhat out of place as he walked in, beanie tucked over his ears and wings folded away to make him look more human. He knew there was something otherworldly about his features, but he couldn't do anything about that. In any event, David wasn't likely to be looking at him much with Hope there beside him.

David was smaller than Aeron expected, and a little twitchy. He was sixteen, Hope had said, though he looked a little small for his age. He had pale skin, a smattering of acne overlaid across his freckles, and hair that was wilder than Caroline's after exposure to chlorine.

"And this is Aeron, our ward," Caroline said, hands clasped together as she made introductions on Hope's behalf. The whole affair was a bit awkward, even after they sat down to dinner and started tucking into the takeaway Chinese that Klaus had smuggled in without the other kids knowing.

"So, David ..." began Klaus, and Aeron was definitely not imagining the razor-sharp looks every woman in the room was giving him as he spoke. "I hear you attend Mystic Falls High?"

"Ah, yes, sir," David said through a mouth full of kung pao chicken. He half-expected Caroline to scold him for talking with his mouth full, but she didn't. "I'm a sophomore."

"And did you grow up in the area?"

"Uh, no, my dads and I only moved here late last year."

"So you're the new kid on the block," said Caroline. "How are you finding MF High?"

"It's like most other high schools, I guess. I just try to keep my head down and do my work."

"David's in advanced placement," Hope contributed, taking a sip of her soda.

"Is that so?" asked Klaus. "You're a hard worker, then?"

"I hope so. One of my dads is a doctor, the other's a mechanic. Different kinds of hard work run in my family, but apparently I only inherited the kind that involves books."

Klaus nodded. "Hard work is hard work, whatever you decide to study."

"I heard you're an artist, like Hope?"

Klaus grinned. "I think you'll find Hope is an artist like me, but yes, I am."

"Hope showed me some of your pieces. I don't know much about art, but my dad said they were really good."

"The doctor or the mechanic?"

"Mechanic."

"I'll have to meet him, then. I've never met a mechanic with good taste before."

David laughed while every other person in the room rolled their eyes in unison. "Yes, sir."

In the corner, Josie raised her hand, fork still in it and dropping fragments of rice down into her hair. "May I speak now?"

Caroline sighed. "You've always been allowed to talk, Josie."

"But you said to let everyone else talk first."

"I said you should _think_ about whether or not someone else is talking first and not dominate the conversation."

"Noted. We're talking about me now."

Groans rang around the room, but Aeron could tell that no one really minded. However much Klaus seemed to be making an effort not to alarm David, things were still tense.

From there, the conversation flowed as naturally as it could with Josie dictating the topic. In the midst of it all, Aeron saw Hope and Klaus meet one another's gaze across the table, Hope mouthing something at him.

 _Thank you._

* * *

 _Now …_

Most of the inns in Velaris were packed full, but Orin's cousins had reserved a room for he and Elfrea. Hope found a room at an inn down the street, having no choice but to let Elfrea come along and pay for it. She wanted to swear to pay her back for her kindness, but it would have been a lie, so she let it be.

Orin and Elfrea were due to spend the evening with his cousins, and they farewelled Hope just on dusk, promising to asks the cousins, Nuala and Cerridwen, about getting her an audience with High Lady Feyre.

Hope took her paid-for meal to her room, eating while seated on the floor. She braided her hair, tying it off with a band and enjoying the feeling of clean hair kept off of her neck. She'd been itching to hit something since the moment she set foot in the city, desperate to take out her aggression on something, anything. She hated being here, in Rhysand's city. Orin and Elfrea had been surprised to learn of her relative ignorance where the war with Hybern was concerned, and had gladly filled her in on the High Lord Rhysand and his mate, High Lady Feyre, who had rallied the courts against Hybern. It seemed that Rhysand had switched sides after Amarantha's death, casting himself the hero, and the masses of people bought into it without question.

People were stupid.

Hope knew better; she'd seen Aeron's scars. Rhysand may have never hurt him, but he hadn't cared to stop it. A man that didn't care for his own son was not a man Hope had any attention of bowing to.

But, being in his territory, she might have to do just that.

She was sick soon after that realisation.

—

Elfrea popped by around breakfast the next morning, all bright eyes and a nice, clean dress all the colours of a sunset sky. "The cousins said that they can direct us toward the tent where High Lady Feyre will be during the Star Festival and you can ask your questions there."

"Just High Lady Feyre?" Hope tried to make the question sound innocent.

"And her attendants, yes. High Lord Rhysand usually checks over the festivities before he joins her to await the beginning of Starfall."

So she could avoid Rhysand if she had the conversation quickly. "Thank you so much for this, Elfrea," she said, taking the female's hands in hers. "I couldn't possibly have made it this far without you."

Elfrea returned her grip and gave a dazzling smile. "I'm honoured to have been able to help you on your journey."

 _Not once you know what I'm going to do when I get there, you won't be._

* * *

 _Then …_

Aeron's fingers floated over the keys, barely touching them but still producing a melody of his own creation.

After two months at the piano, he was already writing his own music. Granted, he hadn't quite mastered writing sheet music as quickly and easily as Elijah, making transferring what sat in his head onto paper a painstaking process, but it was worth it. Plus, Elijah insisted, so there was also that.

They'd kept up their lessons, though Elijah said he may not need them for much longer. From what Aeron gathered (and what Caroline had assured him at length), he'd picked up the instrument faster than was usual, even earning him the title "prodigy". He'd never been good at anything that didn't involve violence before, and it was a nice feeling when, at the end of a hard day of work, Caroline, Alaric, or even Keelin would come into the study room where the piano sat and sit, hot beverage in hand, to listen to him play.

He was _good_ at this. It was what he was meant to be doing.

On this particular night, Aeron was running through one of his more mellow pieces, not bothering to follow along with the sheet music braced in front of him. It was a soft, almost mournful piece that had been one of the first he'd made, once he'd had little input in from Elijah. The tune had been livelier to begin with, but Elijah encouraged him to slow it down, become more familiar with how he felt and how he wanted the music to feel, and the resulting piece was one he was still proud of, a month later.

Aeron had just begun the last section, one that rose to a fever pitch rapidly and seemingly without warning, when something else shot through him completely unexpectedly as well.

Pain. Blinding, horrible pain in his leg.

Aeron stopped playing, jolting back on his stool until he fell backwards of it. Uncaring of the arcs that shot up his spine at the impact, Aeron ran his hands over his leg, surprised to find it untouched, the denim intact.

 _What the hell had that been?_

He'd just begun to stand when it happened again, this time accompanied with a flash of panic. Aeron froze, crouched on the floor and clutching his leg. It passed quickly, leaving him breathless.

What sort of memory had that been? He had flashbacks sometimes, but never that quick, or that vivid. And never when he was playing piano.

It happened once more, leaving Aeron sprawled on the ground with what felt like broken glass beneath him. He was on a dark road, the full moon falling upon a still figure some way away from him.

Pulling back, Aeron knew suddenly and with his whole being what this was.

Bolting out of the room, Aeron made it down the stairs and halfway to Caroline and Klaus's apartment off the side of the building before he collided with Lizzie, sending them both sprawling. Pain flashed through his leg again but he stood regardless, ignoring it.

"Jesus, Aeron," said Lizzie, rubbing her sore head. "What—"

Aeron shook his head at her, turning on his heel and continuing on his way.

He banged on the door, finding it unlocked and marching straight in. Caroline was seated on the sofa, dressed in pajamas and with paperwork on her lap, and Klaus appeared from the direction of the bathroom wearing nothing but sweatpants.

"It's Hope," Aeron panted. "I think she's in trouble."

Caroline frowned, setting aside the paperwork and standing. "Hope's out on a date—"

"There's been an accident. She's on the road. I don't—I don't know where, but I think I can find her. I think I can winnow."

"Wait, wait, wait," said Klaus, voice rough. "How do you know this?"

"I just do. Please, believe me—"

"We believe you," Caroline promised, scooping up her phone from the coffee table and pressing it into his hand. "Do you have your phone on you?" He shook his head. "Take my phone and go find her. Once you have, call me and tell me where you are."

Aeron nodded, feeling sick and almost like he might faint. Caroline stepped closer, putting her hands on his shoulders. "Aeron, you're okay. You can do this. Just find her, call, and wait for us to get there. Everything is going to be okay." She kissed his forehead. "I love you. Now, go."

So he went.

—

Winnowing for the second time in his life was just as disorienting as the first, but it required little thought at all. One moment he was standing in Caroline's living room, the next he was on the side of the road, bare feet in the mud and staring at the wreckage that had once been David's car, along with parts of another.

Moving immediately to the figure that had to be Hope, Aeron took her shoulders in his hands and turned her over, finding her unconscious. Her leg was broken, the bone visible right where Aeron had felt the stabbing pain. The glass around her glittered with blood like stars.

Fingers numb, Aeron opened up Caroline's phone and dialled Klaus's number. Caroline answered.

" _Where are you?"_

Aeron looked up, searching for something, anything. "There aren't any signs," he said. "B—but there's a barn. It's green and I think there's writing on it." He squinted. "Caldwell's. Caldwell's Feed Barn."

" _I know where that is. We'll be there soon. What happened?"_

"A car accident. It looks like they collided with someone else on the corner."

" _How is she?"_

"She—she's unconscious. On the ground. Her leg—"

" _It's okay, we're coming. We'll be there in ten minutes, and we've called for an ambulance, so they're on their way to you right now. I'm putting you on with Keelin now, and she's gonna ask some questions about Hope, okay?"_

Aeron sniffed. "Okay."

" _You've been really brave, Aeron. Just hold on tight."_ A shuffle, and then the phone had exchanged hands.

" _Okay, Aer,"_ said Keelin. " _Is she breathing?"_

"Yeah. And I can hear her heart rate, too."

" _And without a stethoscope,"_ praised Keelin. " _Is it steady?"_

"I—I think so."

" _How much blood can you see on the ground?"_

"A—a lot. But she's not too pale, I don't think."

" _Okay, can you have a look at her leg wound? Is there blood spurting from there? Does it look like her artery has been compromised?"_

He tried to inspect it as best he could. "No, it's just—it's just a patch of blood around it. Most of the blood is coming from her nose."

" _All right, sweetheart. I want you to roll her on her side just in case any blood or anything comes up in her throat. Can you do that?"_

"Yeah." He did so carefully, bracing her back with his knees.

" _Do you think you can prop her up on something and check on the others to see if they're okay?"_

"I can't—I can't leave her."

" _Aeron, it's okay. There's nothing more that can be done until either we get there or the ambulance does. You have to check on everyone else—"_

"I can't leave her, Keelin. I just can't. She's hurting."

" _She's unconscious, Aeron. She's not in any pain—"_

"Yes, she is! I can feel it. I can feel her pain." Tears were streaming down his face before he knew it, blurring his vision. For a moment, it looked like blood was pouring from her head. He blinked his tears away enough to see that it was only a tendril of hair that had escaped from her ponytail. He smoothed it back into place.

In his arms, she convulsed, eyes flying open and a groan coming from her throat.

In his hand, the phone shattered.

Aeron tossed the pieces away, grabbing Hope's shoulder to stop her from pitching forward onto her stomach. "I'm here," he said, holding her still. She eased onto her back to look up at him. "Help is coming. You're going to be okay."

Hope shook in his arms, a scream building in her throat. He watched her swallow it down, her pursed lips slipping with the blood that had coated them. "Aeron," she said, voice strained.

"I got here as soon as I could."

Her eyes welled with tears. "H-hurts."

"I know it does. But I think … I think I can take that away. I can take you somewhere else, if you let me."

Her eyes closed, tears falling from the corners. "Please."

Nodding, Aeron closed his eyes, pressing his forehead to hers as he felt out for her consciousness. It was easier to find than he thought, like walking down a garden path and finding her bedroom at the end, door wide open. He walked in, pulling her with him to somewhere else entirely.

* * *

 _Now …_

The Star Festival was a new tradition, apparently. While Starfall had been an annual event for as long as anyone could remember, the festival hadn't been a part of their celebration since the arrival of High Lady Feyre, for whatever reason.

Orin and Elfrea offered to accompany Hope, but she declined, thanking them profusely. The truth was that she needed her story to be fluid, able to change depending on the circumstances, and if she had people she'd already told a _different_ lie to present … well, things could become awkward.

Assured that Feyre would be welcoming, Hope forged through the crowds, dodging vendors trying to sell her wares, candle-lamps shaped like stars, star-shaped cookies, star-charms on necklaces. They definitely capitalised on this holiday, and fae of all kinds were flocking to buy merchandise.

The High Lord and Lady's tent was in the center of the field where the festival was hosted. It was at least three-fold larger than the other tents and radiated light.

Picking up the skirts of her gown, Hope picked her way toward the tent. It was just on dusk, and the stars were due to begin falling at midnight. Hopefully she'd be able to leave amid the furor that ensued then.

Barring her entry was an Illyrian.

She knew she should expect to see more of them, that the High Lord himself was one, but she hadn't anticipated what it would be like to see undamaged wings jutting up behind a warrior, a warrior wearing scaled armour like Aeron should have if he had been raised as what he was.

Biting back her anger, Hope stepped towards the warrior, noting the blue stones on the backs of his hands and the sword strapped over his back. Shadows lurked behind his eyes, the kind of shadows she didn't like in the least.

Forcing a nervous smile, Hope said, "Hello, I'm Helen. I'm here to speak with the High Lady."

"High Lady Feyre doesn't hold court at the Star Festival."

"I—well, I was told that she would be glad to see me. My friends, Orin and Elfrea, their cousins serve in her household. They said that she would allow me an audience." Hope rested a palm over her stomach, hoping desperately that he'd notice the heartbeat coming from within. Pregnancy was rare among fae, apparently, and it seemed to be getting her all kinds of perks.

Just as the Illyrian seemed about to deny her again, a voice filtered out from inside.

"You can let her pass, Azriel."

As directed, the Illyrian, Azriel, stepped aside to allow her passage.

Ducking between the flaps, Hope was instantly struck by the display of wealth inside. Rugs stretched out over the floor and low chairs flanked the space, all of which was illuminated by ornate candelabras.

Two female High Fae were reclining on opposing settees, the picture of grace. In another world, Hope might have liked to paint them.

"Hello," she said meekly, bowing deeply before both of them.

The shorter of the two, the one with her hair braided down her back and her left hand inked in swirls, sat up, gesturing for Hope to come closer. "Nuala and Cerridwen told me you might be stopping by. Please, have a seat by me."

"Thank you, my lady."

"Please, call me Feyre. And this is my sister, Nesta."

The female across from them nodded shortly, her keen eyes taking in Hope's form. She felt remarkably underdressed in front of them, clad only in plain grey cotton, but perhaps that would serve to contribute to the overall appearance of her innocence. "I am Helen," she introduced herself. "I met Orin and Elfrea on the road and told them of my … situation"—she took care to blush—"and they offered to escort me to you to ask for assistance."

"That all sounds very daring," said Feyre. "Please, tell me more."

"I—forgive me, my lady, it's a bit of a sordid tale."

Feyre smiled. "We can handle it, I promise."

Gaze darting from Nesta to Feyre, Hope cleared her throat delicately. "I was attending a revel in the Dawn Court, enjoying the sights as I journeyed through Prythian. I heard it was safe for humans now, thanks to you, my lady, and I wanted to see its delights for myself."

"I'd say that's understandable," said the High Lady, "but I'm not exactly impartial. Do go on."

"It was at the revel that I met a man—a male, as you would say. He was so beautiful, and I admit to being entranced by him. We spent the evening together, but by dawn he was gone. I searched everywhere for him and turned up nothing, and had just resolved to give up entirely before I came to realise that I am with child. With his child."

Feyre nodded deeply. "I had noticed."

Hope flushed. "I do forget how perceptive fae are at times. I'm here in search of your wisdom, High Lady Feyre. Orin and Elfrea informed me of the Suriel, a creature able to reveal unknowable truths to those who catch it. I wondered if you might advise me with this, so that I might find the father of my child."

"It's a clever plan," praised Feyre. "I haven't seen a Suriel in years, but there is one still around, if I'm not mistaken. I heard rumours of them operating in the Autumn Court, but I'd take care there. The fae in Autumn are not nearly as charming as those in Dawn."

"I will be as careful as you say, my lady. Might you advise me as to how to catch a Suriel?"

"You can try a freshly slaughtered chicken to lure them out, but they like a gift of fabric, a cloak or dress or somesuch. Something unusual. Once you've caught them, you may ask them as many questions as you please until you release them, though I feel that you won't need too many to ascertain the whereabouts of your lover."

"I agree, my lady. Thank you so much for your time."

"It's no problem. But … I don't mean to be indelicate, but are you certain that travel is wise in your condition?"

Hope ran a hand over her belly. "I have no choice, my lady. For the sake of my child."

Feyre smiled softly. "Yes, we all must do things for our children."

"Do you have any, my lady?"

Nesta snorted, and Feyre shot her glare before returning her gaze to Hope. "Not yet. But perhaps eventually. And even I can recognise how precious it is to carry a babe within you. You have my best wishes, Helen. Truly."

"Thank you, my lady. You've been so kind, but I mustn't waste any more of your time." Hope made to stand.

"What if we want to hear more of your sordid tales of revels in the Dawn Court?" asked Nesta, a smirk tugging at her lip. "Surely you wouldn't deprive us of the pleasure."

Hope panicked. She had no idea what happened at a revel. "I wouldn't want to bore you and High Lady Feyre with the details, Lady Nesta."

"Leave the poor girl be, Nesta," scolded Feyre. She turned back to Hope. "Would you like to stay for a drink? Wine is perhaps not good for you in your condition, but I believe we have some juice. You look like you could use the sweetness."

It had been a long time since Hope had something sweet, but she couldn't afford to stay. "I wouldn't dream of imposing—"

"Oh, please," dismissed Feyre, waving her hand. "I insist. Come, sit by me and my dearest sister will pour you a glass."

Having no other choice, Hope did as requested.

* * *

 _Then …_

Aeron opened his eyes to a familiar darkness.

He could feel Hope beside him, breathing into the cold damp. She muttered, " _Incendia,"_ and fire leapt in her palm, illuminating the space.

His cell.

"What is this place?" asked Hope. She looked well, free of blood and dressed just as she had been the night he first saw her, a white nightgown and with her red-hair loose.

"This was my home," said Aeron. "As a child."

Hope looked horrified.

"I'm sorry, I can take you somewhere else. This was just the first place I thought of."

"Why?"

"I … I guess I just know it best."

Hope ran a hand along the wall, her fingers coming away clean. "So we're here … in your memories?"

"Not memories." _Otherwise I'd be chained._ "It's my head. I brought you here because it's the place I recognise the best, and you needed to be somewhere without the pain."

Hope looked afraid for a moment. "How—how bad were my injuries?"

"You'll be fine," Aeron assured her. "Help is coming."

Nodding, she let it go, her gaze on the loose shackles attached to the floor. "And those used to be … on you."

"Most of the time, yeah."

"Didn't they hurt?"

"Not after I left. I guess I healed from that quickly."

"But your wings didn't heal as fast."

"They're different. More sensitive, I guess."

Hope nodded as though that made sense. She walked over to one of the walls, finding stars scratched into the surface. Twelve in total. "What are these?"

"I don't know for sure," said Aeron, edging closer. "I had this feeling, once a year, that the stars were falling. Maybe it has something to do with my Night Court heritage? I'm not sure. I just know that I used it to count the years."

"So you were her for twelve years, plus the ones you couldn't make the marks for?" Hope asked, and he nodded. "So you would've started making the marks when you were, what, four or five?"

"I don't know. I don't know how old I am, either."

Hope sighed, leaning against the wall and sliding down it until she was seated. There, she sat up and gazed at the blank ceiling. "I've always known I was lucky," she said. "With how powerful I am, how powerful my family is. I mean, we get kids coming to the Armory who've been tortured for their gifts, but here am I, being praised every day for nothing more than the circumstances of my birth. I know how lucky I am, and I only ever see it in how unlucky other people are. So this room makes me feel lucky. And I think that's kind of rotten of me."

Aeron sat down beside her. The warmth of her arm against his was almost real. "It makes me feel lucky, too," he said. "You made me lucky when you found me."

Turning to face him, Hope had tears shining in her eyes, gold where they reflected the fire still balanced in her palm. "I'm scared I won't be lucky this time."

"You're going to be fine," Aeron assured her. "Nothing is going to happen to you."

"If I die," she said, voice raw and pained, "please tell them I was brave."

"You are brave."

"No, I'm not. I'm so scared. I couldn't even handle a little pain."

"You never have to handle pain. Not as long as I'm here to take it away."

Hope leaned against his shoulder, her eyes sliding shut. "I don't want to die."

The light in her palm flickered out.

—

"Hey, kid, can you hear me?"

Aeron was jostled back to himself with a hand on his shoulder. He was still kneeling on the road, Hope in his arms. Her eyes were closed again, and a man dessed in a uniform was hunched over him. Blue and red lights flashed behind him.

"Hey, buddy. You gotta let us take her."

Another uniformed person was coming toward them wheeling a small bed that clattered.

"Her family is coming," said Aeron, watching the woman stoop over Hope and press her fingers to her wrist, checking her pulse.

"We've got a head wound," said the woman.

"Come on, kid," the man tried again, pulling him back from Hope. "We've got to take her."

"But her family—" Before he'd even finished the sentence, Caroline's SUV pulled up, Klaus jumping out of it and heading toward them.

"Hope!" he called, arriving at her side in a blink. Both of the healers looked alarmed by this, and a few in the background that were tending to the others did as well.

Caroline stepped forward, compelling each of them in turn in a matter of minutes. " _Don't remember anything out of the ordinary. Let her father give her blood in whatever way he has to. Alter her chart to make her look normal. Run all the tests you need to before you release her."_

And then they were loading Hope onto one of their vehicles, and Caroline had an arm wrapped around Aeron's shoulders to keep him upright. "She'll be okay, sweetheart," she promised, rubbing his upper arm. "Everything will be okay."

Everything wasn't okay. He could feel her pain even now, could feel the taste of Klaus's blood in his mouth, feel her leg knitting back together, feel the healers setting the bone. He could feel all of it, the pain, the terror, everything.

And the reason why was a single word:

 _Mate._

Finally, he let the tears fall.

* * *

 _Now …_

Nesta reminded Hope of Lizzie in a way that pained her, but she swallowed it down with her juice and put on a smile that smoke of how _happy_ she was to be there, in the presence of two such fine ladies.

Feyre was kind to her, asking her questions that she struggled to answer convincingly. She wondered if it might be an interrogation, but Feyre did seem genuine in her desire to know more about Hope's—or Helen's—life.

Her cup ran dry, and she tried again to make her excuses. Moving to her feel, she feigned a yawn and said, "I'm so sorry, but this baby seems to be sapping all the energy out of me lately."

"Of course, of course," said Feyre, waving a hand. "Go get some rest. And please let me know if you need anything more from me, anytime."

"Thank you, my ladies. It's been a pleasure."

Hope backed away, bowing deeply, and as she turned to leave the tent flaps flew open, a broad figure ducking through.

She stopped dead in her tracks.

The line of the jaw, the curve of the cheekbones, the dark skin and ink-black hair—

She knew who this was.

Before her stood her father-in-law: the High Lord of the Night Court.

* * *

 **Act III due 20/08/2017!**


	4. Act III

**Sorry for the late posting! I was pretty sick for a couple of days (couldn't even sit up and type). But I'm on the mend, so here's Act III!**

* * *

ACT THREE

 _The More You Drink From the Well ..._

 _Nine years ago …_

The blood spun and eddied as it was sucked down the drain, slipping over the pristine tiles and staining the water pink. Aeron watched it, hands braced on the wall to keep himself upright as the blood's progress made him dizzy.

A knock sounded at the door. "Everything okay in there?" Caroline.

Aeron made a sound of acknowledgement, not quite up to words yet. He waited until the water ran clear, then switched it off.

He dried and dressed mechanically, his wings folded away. It was Klaus and Caroline's bathroom, so every soap smelled rich and expensive. He found it oddly comforting.

Finally gathering up the courage to exit, Aeron opened the door and wandered into the living room. The same room he'd come sprinting into earlier, announcing that Hope was in danger.

Caroline and Keelin were seated on the sofa, Freya having gone to join Klaus at the hospital with Hope. They both turned to look at him as he entered, carrying the bundle of bloody clothes in his arms.

Jumping up, Caroline took the clothes from him and waved him toward a seat, disappearing to deliver the clothes to the laundry.

Keelin looked Aeron over with a critical eye, hands cocooned around a cup of what smelled like green tea. "How are you feeling?"

"Numb."

She winced. "Shock is a funny thing. It can be hard to handle sometimes. But it'll pass, and everything will be fine."

Aeron nodded. He knew, intellectually, that Hope would be all right. Klaus had given her blood, and the pain he'd felt from her was gone. But still, he couldn't forget the blood that stained his hands, the blood still caked in half-moons under his fingernails.

Caroline returned bearing a tin of drinking chocolate she'd taken from the pantry downstairs. She and Klaus had a tiny kitchen off to the side of their apartment, and she proceeded to use the space to make a hot chocolate for Aeron, one with the cinnamon and tiny marshmallows that he liked. It was one of the few things she could make well.

He could barely taste it on his tongue.

Freya called with a report on Hope (good) and a medical question (complicated), so Keelin wandered off to focus on that conversation with her wife.

Left alone together, Caroline and Aeron stared at one another. He could tell she wanted to say something, but held back for his sake.

"I'm all right," he said, unprompted. "I wasn't injured."

"I know you're okay," she said, "and I'm glad for that. I'm just a bit confused."

"By what?"

"By how you knew she was in trouble."

Aeron took a sip of his hot chocolate to avoid answering for a moment. He knew why, of course. He was just trying not to think about it. "Some daemati thing, I guess," he said. He'd never told them about the mate bond that fae had, only ever discussed it with Hope that time in the greenhouse. She hadn't been overly positive about the idea.

"Well, thank god for daemati magic, and thank god for you." Caroline's eyes became a little watery. "You did really great tonight, Aeron. I hope you know that."

Once again, Aeron employed a sip of his drink as a way to defer the obligation to respond. "What will you tell Josie and Lizzie?"

"The truth, as always. But I'll leave it to the morning. They should get some rest."

"Does everyone else know?"

"We told Freya and Keelin before we left, and they told everyone in New Orleans. Hayley's driving down as we speak."

Of course she was. Hope was her daughter, after all.

Keelin reappeared, in the middle of tucking her phone back into her pocket. "I talked to the doctor," she said. "Hope's all healed up, and they're discharging her as we speak."

"Thank god," Caroline breathed. "And David?"

"Still being checked over. His head injury wasn't as bad as they thought, so he's going to be all right. Klaus is considering giving him some blood, but his parents would want to know why he isn't injured."

"They won't wonder the same about Hope?"

"Klaus is planning to compel David to believe he'd already dropped her home before the accident."

Caroline rubbed her temples, blue fingernails chipped. That was unusual for her. "How did this even happen?"

Keelin sat down beside Caroline on the sofa, resting her slipper-clad feet on the coffee table. She looked like she'd already been in bed when she was told, wearing silk pajamas and a cap over her hair. "The official investigation hasn't concluded yet, obviously, but Hope told Klaus and Freya that the other car came out of nowhere. Klaus overhead someone say that the other driver was drunk, some woman driving home after a work function. Guess she had a few too many white wines."

Aeron may not have been in this world for long, but he knew that driving drunk was dangerous. He'd heard the way the others talked about it, the way the adults cautioned the kids against it. The other driver had decided that driving home was worth risking Hope's life.

Spitefully, inexplicably, he hoped that the other driver would die. Only for a moment, and then it faded, leaving him shameful. But while it was there, flickering in his chest, it was intoxicating, ironically enough.

"So when is she coming home?" he asked.

"Just as soon as they get all the paperwork done," Caroline reassured him.

As far as Aeron was concerned, that couldn't come soon enough.

* * *

It was 3am when Hope finally returned home.

Aeron stayed in a corner, away from the hugs being exchanged. Hope was pale and drawn, eyes a little glazed but otherwise unharmed. Klaus stayed inches away from her, his gaze barely leaving his daughter.

It appeared that the night's events had been frightening for more than just Aeron.

It wasn't until the hubbub of her arrival died down that Hope finally looked at Aeron. She was dressed in a tracksuit Freya had taken to the hospital for her, and her hair was loose. Her makeup from the night was smudged around her eyes and temples where the tears had fallen as she laid on the road. She walked towards him slowly, almost as though she expected her leg to still be injured. She was two steps away from him when she pitched forward, throwing her hands around his neck and anchoring herself to him.

Neither of them spoke—no one did. Aeron returned the embrace just as fiercely, certain that the tension of her arms across his shoulder blades was the only thing keeping him standing.

When she let him go at last, he mourned her loss as though it pained him. Something flickered behind her eyes, and he wondered, for a moment, if she felt it too. If she felt how inextricably they were b0und.

But then she turned away, tucking herself into her father's side once more. "I'm tired," she said, and then she was gone, whisked away in her father's arms.

Freya and Keelin left to go to their rooms, both looking exhausted. Ric patted Aeron on the back and did much the same, leaving Aeron in the parlour with Caroline. Somehow she was the only one of them that didn't look exhausted, her hair neatly pulled back into a ponytail and her eyes bright and ready to face the day.

"Are you going back to sleep?" Aeron asked.

She stepped forward, settling her fingers in the crook of his arm. "Something tells me you won't be, so I guess I'm not. Let's go see if we can find something to watch on TV, huh?"

Aeron wasn't sure how she knew what he needed, but he'd long since come to accept it. He nodded and let himself be pulled along toward her apartment.

* * *

 _Now …_

"Hello, there." Rhysand grinned at her, teeth gleaming and violet eyes glittering. Though the colour was different from Aeron's, the shape of them, the way thick eyebrows arched up over them—they were so painfully familiar, she felt a twinge in her chest. "And who is this?"

Remembering herself, Hope gripped the skirt of her dress and curtseyed deeply. "High Lord Rhysand."

Feyre spoke up from where was still draped over the settee. "This is Helen. She came seeking counsel."

"Wise of you," Rhysand praised her, "to come to the wisest lady in all the land." He stepped past her, crossing to his mate and dropping a kiss on her forehead before settling beside her. "I do hope you found my wife's counsel to be of some assistance."

"Very much so, my lord." Hope dipped her head once more, feeling sick to the stomach. She hated being subservient to him. Not after what he'd let Amarantha do to Aeron. "If you'll excuse me, I'll just be going."

Rhysand grinned. "My arrival has that effect on people," he joked, and Hope was inclined to agree.

"It was lovely meeting you, Helen," said Feyre. "All the best of luck with your journey, and your babe. Where are you staying, might I ask?"

"At an inn in the city. The Pale Woman, I think it's called."

Feyre and Rhysand exchanged a glance, and it was he that said, "The walk back will take you through some of the rougher streets, and the festival brings all kinds of fae into the city. Azriel!"

The warrior from outside the tent appeared, the flaps barely rustling as he passed through them.

"Could you please walk Helen back to The Pale Woman?" asked Feyre. She glanced at Hope. "Unless you'd rather look around at the festival first?"

If accepting an escort was the only way to get out of here, she'd take it. "No, my lady. I'm quite exhausted."

"I can imagine," said Feyre, her smile warming her voice. She seemed lovely, really. It was a shame about her taste in men.

"Thank you so much for all your help, my lady. I do appreciate it." Hope bowed one last time, then departed, the warrior, Azriel, following closely behind her.

* * *

Sometimes Hope wished she was Josie. Josie could talk to anyone about anything, and never felt awkward about it. Josie would have taken to walking alongside a centuries old Illyrian warrior like a fish to water, enchanting Azriel into talking to her just like she had to Aeron when he first arrived.

Hope wasn't quite as skilled.

She and Azriel walked along in silence, and not the companionable kind. It was the awkward, tense kind, because Hope knew there was no point in her being escorted anywhere, being as powerful as she was. But Azriel seemed to take his High Lord's orders seriously, watching the crowds with a tense jaw and a critical eye.

"So," said Hope, resigning herself to an hour's walk in this man's company, "you're a guard?"

"I'm a warrior in High Lord Rhysand and High Lady Feyre's service," he replied. His response may have been curt, but his tone was not unkind.

"And you're Illyrian."

"I am."

This was a rare opportunity, Hope knew. Aeron had always wanted to know more about being Illyrian. She'd never thought he would have the chance to learn, let alone that she would. "I confess to some curiosity," she said, trying her best to wear the guise of a curious human girl in fae territory. "I've heard stories about what great warriors Illyrians are. Are you all fighters?"

"As far as I'm aware."

"And there are no poets? No musicians? No performers?"

"Not that I've met."

"That seems sad," Hope couldn't stop herself from saying. Aeron's music was such a part of him, and the thought of all the Illyrians being corralled into a profession they didn't want and depriving themselves of any opportunity to explore anything beyond the fight was more than a little upsetting. Aeron would've hated it.

"It's the way we are. Few complain, given that it's in our blood."

"What does that even mean?"

Azriel's smirk was barely noticeable, but it was there. "I ask myself the same thing very often."

Hope dodged some running children. They'd made it away from the fairgrounds and back to the streets. There were fewer people, most being occupied with the fair. "Surely you have some theories."

"A few."

Hope waited for him to elaborate, but he didn't. "You don't talk much, do you?"

"I talk. I just happen to believe it should be necessary."

Under normal circumstances, Hope would agree. But she didn't know much about this world, so any conversation was necessary if it could give her more information. "What is it like? Working for High Lord Rhysand and High Lady Feyre?"

"We're old friends, so that makes it easier. They're good leaders, strong influences on this Court. It's rewarding to see my home become the version of itself I always knew it could be."

She couldn't tell if he was being genuine or not. From what she knew of Rhysand, his strong leadership was probably all a game. No man that left his son to be tortured was going to then turn around and work to build a better world. Not unless he stood to gain from it.

"That sounds nice," she said. "Working toward a better world. I'm grateful it got a little safer for humans, obviously." She patted her still flat stomach, feeling how hard it had become.

"It is," Azriel agreed. "And I'm glad you feel safe enough to travel. Though I would caution you, in regards to the Autumn Court. I know that's where Feyre told you you could find the last Suriel, but that Court … it's not like the others. The High Lord isn't like Rhysand."

That was a good thing, surely. "What do you mean?"

"Beron is … cruel. His sons all are as well. Humans mostly avoid their Court, just to be safe."

Hope nodded, absorbing his words. It wasn't like she couldn't protect herself, but she was posing as a human. It wouldn't make sense to act as cocky as she felt. "I'll be careful," she promised. "But I have to try and find him."

Azriel smiled. "I can understand that."

The Pale Woman lurked up ahead, the rather raunchy sign unmistakeable in the afternoon light. "Thank you for seeing me home," Hope said, and she meant it. The warrior's presence wasn't entirely horrible, she had to admit. "I appreciate it."

Azriel nodded. "Best of luck finding your lover. And please, remember what I said about the Autumn Court."

"I will," Hope vowed, maintaining eye contact to try and convey how serious she was.

He bowed his head, but seemed to hesitate. "You know," he said, voice smooth but brow furrowed, "if you wait a couple of days, I can come with you. I have matters to attend to during the festival, but I'd be happy to help you on your journey afterward."

Hope blinked. "I—thank you, but I couldn't ask you to do that."

"I'm due for a holiday," Azriel assured her. "And I can help you in the Autumn Court. I know the terrain well enough."

He was genuine, she realised. If she agreed, he really would come with her. "Thank you for your offer; it means so much. But I'm sure I can manage." _Also, you'd never stand back and let me do what needs to be done._

"Are you sure?"

"Quite sure, thank you." Hope stepped away from him, hoping her smile was stiff enough to convey that the conversation was well and truly over. "Enjoy the celebration."

She turned away and headed toward the inn, hoping desperately that he wouldn't try to offer again. No sane human woman would refuse a powerful fae warrior to escort her through a dangerous territory, but she couldn't afford to let him accompany her.

She just hoped he accepted it for what it was.

* * *

 _Then …_

Aeron slipped into the water like a shard of glass through flesh, wings pulled in tightly to help him slice through it. He was getting better at diving, at letting go and swooping down from the diving board and into the water.

Caroline no longer swam with him every time, choosing to spend the time sitting on a bench at the side of the room, often on the phone. She always had a thumbs-up ready to give him, though, whenever she caught him looking at her.

It had been two weeks since Hope's accident, two weeks spent shut up in the Armory trying to deal with his festering emotions. Caroline would encourage him to talk about them, but there was no way he could tell anyone about the mate bond. Not when Hope obviously hated the idea of it herself, having said as much when they discussed it months ago. Klaus would toss him onto the street.

So Aeron channeled his energy into the two things he loved most: music and swimming. He was improving at both, slowly but surely, and Caroline was brimming with praise whenever the slightest mention was made of his extracurricular activities. (Though the didn't count as _extra_ curricular, considering that he didn't do anything curricular. Yet.)

Pulling himself up from the water, Aeron felt it sluicing of his wings and down his back. He tugged a hand through his hair, finding it rough from the water. Caroline looked up from the paperwork she had balanced on her lap, thumbs sticking up out of habit.

"Ready to get going?" she asked.

Aeron shook his head. Swimming was cathartic, but it was becoming harder and harder to find relief in it. He felt tension in his chest like a knot lurking in the center of his chest, slowly beginning to unravel only to wrap around his heart and clench.

He needed to let go, or he wouldn't survive this.

Aeron padded over to the ladder leading up to the diving board, wet feet slapping on the cement. He began to climb, the ascent no longer making his arms tired. He knew he was getting stronger—he'd been free for nearly a year, and he could see the difference. He had colour in his cheeks, the sun darkening his skin as it had never been allowed to Under the Mountain, and muscles had begun to show themselves in his arms from hours of swimming every week.

Reaching the board, Aeron spread his wings wide to keep himself balanced. He walked right to the end, feeling it begin to dip down under his weight. He bounced up on the balls of his feet several times, feeling it begin to spring back at him. He tucked his wings in tight, preparing to jump—

—and hit a wet patch on the board, falling forward and toppling off.

What happened next was instinct born of an unexpected free fall, a part of his mind not recognising the safety of the water beneath him. His wings flung out, banking him up for one gut-twisting moment before he pitched down into the water.

Resurfacing, Aeron spluttered, wiping the water from his face and eyes. Caroline was at the edge of the pool, her heels inches from the water and her mouth hanging open a little. "Did you just—" she spluttered as though water had filled her mouth too.

Aeron nodded, heart pounding. "I think I did."

Caroline looked close to tears. "Can you do it again?"

"I can try."

* * *

As it turned out, he couldn't do it again. He was too stuck in his own head, convinced it was a fluke. Caroline was encouraging, and he was glad to have done it, but short of pushing him off a cliff, there didn't seem to be much else to do.

The trip home was filled with Caroline's chatter about stage fright and an only vaguely relevant tangent about her brief career on the public debate team in high school ("Apparently I was _too_ intense. Can you believe it? Too intense for arguing as a hobby!").

They pulled into the Armory mid-afternoon. It was a Saturday, and Ric had taken a dozen or so of the kids on a day trip somewhere, leaving the place quieter than normal. Aeron tried to ignore the tug at his chest, the knowledge of Hope's presence and exactly where she was—in the library, apparently bored. It was an invasion of her privacy, so he did his best to shut it down.

The effort it took to do so much have shown on his face, as Caroline paused, halfway up the front steps, and put a hand on his shoulder. "You okay?"

He nodded quickly. "Yeah," he lied. "Everything's fine."

She slung an arm over his shoulders, tugging him close as they continued up inside. "I'm proud of you."

 _You wouldn't be if you knew._

* * *

 _Now …_

 _Orin and Elfrea,_

 _Thank you so much for all of your assistance. I can never hope to repay your kindness, and what you've done for me means more than you'll ever know. I'm leaving to continue my quest, and am sorry that I was unable to say goodbye. Words cannot express my gratitude, but I hope this letter will suffice._

 _Wishing you all the best,_

 _Helen_

Hope knew it was a cop-out, and a lame one at that, but she didn't have many other options. She had to get going, and she couldn't risk Orin and Elfrea trying to convince her to stay or let them help her. The same went for Azriel, who had seemed quite perturbed by her refusal.

Having no other choice, Hope left under cover of darkness, delivering the letter to the innkeep and asking that it be given to Orin and Elfrea when they came looking for her the next morning.

Starfall was underway when she walked outside, the stars shooting across the sky in silver arcs like tears, there and faded so quickly away.

It was beautiful, but she couldn't stay.

With the stars falling at her back and the world ahead, Hope left the safety of her mate's home and sought instead the darkness.

* * *

 _Then …_

One month after the accident, Hope brought David back to visit.

They were to have a dinner, just as they had the first time he came to meet her family. Aeron declined the offer to join, causing Caroline to stare him down for a substantial amount of time as though she could see into his mind and find the answers there.

He knew she wouldn't try that, but he could tell she was tempted, desperate to know why he'd decline.

Klaus, apparently, had no such qualms about seeking the truth.

He appeared at Aeron's door some hours before David was due to arrive with his fathers, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt flecked with paint, white bits of it speckled across the black material like stars.

"Can I come in?" he asked, though the door was already open.

Sunning his wings on a chair by the window, Aeron nodded toward the chair by the desk and said, "Sure."

Klaus entered, shutting the door and moving to the chair. He sat down almost awkwardly, perching on the edge of it with his elbows down on his knees so he was hunched over. "Caroline says you're not coming to dinner tonight."

Aeron's heart skipped a beat. "No, I'm not."

"Because of David."

He said nothing.

Klaus sighed, leaning back in the chair. "Look, mate, I get it. I don't particularly want to see the boy either. He was driving the car when my daughter almost died. But it wasn't his fault, you know. The other driver was drunk, speeding and driving erratically. David wasn't to blame, much as I wish he was."

Aeron knew this, and had no issue with David and his driving skills. It was more the fact that Hope would be there than anything, and Aeron wasn't in the mood to fight down the mate bond at the sight of her. And he couldn't ask for help, either. It wasn't Hope's fault he was like this, and he wasn't going to make it anyone else's responsibility to manage it but him.

"I know that," Aeron said. "It just frightens me still." That much was true. The sight of Hope covered in blood had entered his nightmares now, apparently determined to stay there alongside the monster and his mother's torture.

"I can understand that, mate. But she's okay. I know because I must've checked ten times a day since she got out of the hospital."

Aeron nodded. "I'm trying. I just don't think I should be there tonight." _And I don't see why it matters so much to you. Caroline, sure, but not you._

"Okay." Klaus clenched and unclenched his fists. "But please, mate, don't tell Hope that she's making it hard for you. We can figure this out, but … don't make her feel like it's her fault."

This situation was a lot of things, but Hope's fault wasn't one of them. "I would never do that."

Klaus met his gaze, his eyes so like Hope's in colour, in shape, in their ability to pin him in place. "I know you wouldn't." He stood, walking over to pat Aeron on the shoulder. "I'll let Caroline know you're taking dinner in your room tonight."

As he watched Klaus go, Aeron was tempted to call after him, to ask him back, to ask for Caroline, for anyone. He didn't want to be alone, not with this.

But this was no one's fault but his, and it was no one's responsibility but his.

* * *

The town of Arbore was more of a city than a town, large and sprawling and cushioned between two small mountains that looked like they could fold over it at any moment.

Hope kept the cowl of her cloak up as she entered, her scent hidden. Great maple trees lined the streets, bare of leaves. The air was colder here, stinging her face as it whipped down the main thoroughfare she was walking along.

Having managed to "find" more coins from a rich couple she passed on the road, Hope had more than enough to purchase the night at the local inn, The Green Door. The innkeep was lesser fae with spindly needles for hair, almost like that of a hedgehog. Their quick hazel eyes summed her up, lips twisting at the sight of the cowl that hid her features. If they noticed her lack of scent, they didn't comment on it.

"Room for one, just for the night," said Hope, dropping coins onto the counter. Her accent was American and almost certainly marked her out as not a local, but she hoped they didn't wonder if she was human. She'd been forewarned about this Court's treatment of humans.

The innkeep took her coins silently, handing her a key but supplying her with no directions beyond a waved hand toward the staircase. As she began to ascend, their raspy voice called up after her.

"Welcome to the Autumn Court."

* * *

 **I know, I know, Rhys and Hope's interaction was a bit disappointing. But there will be more on that, I promise. All in due time!**

 **Act IV due 03/09/2017! (Will probably be posted earlier than that, but I'm being liberal with my promises given how sick I've been lately.)**

 **Let me know what you thought!**


	5. Act IV

**Here it is! Sorry it took so long, but I've been working through some stuff. Unbeta'd, so any mistakes are mine and mine alone.**

* * *

ACT FOUR

… _The Higher the Waters Will Rise_

 _Nine years ago …_

The air had turned sharp and cold, enough to force Aeron and Josie into bulky jackets when they went jogging in the mornings. The grass crunched under their sneakers, white puffs of breath coming faster and faster as they started panting.

Breathlessness did little to deter Josie from speaking, of course.

"So then—" She paused to pant. "Then, I said, _Louis, if you so much as—as breathe in her direction again I'll shove your nose so far up your ass you'll taste it_." Her laugh was weak. "He stopped talking after that. Never did have any balls, Leroux witches."

Aeron snorted. Despite having not yet had the pleasure of making Louis Leroux's acquaintance, he was fairly certain he never wanted to. The Lerouxs were werewolf-haters, and Louis routinely treated Hope like scum. The only comforting thing about the situation was that Josie seemed about as protective of Hope as Aeron felt, and watching her express it openly was cathartic when he spent so much time smothering his own instincts.

Hope didn't need him, he had come to realise. It was easier that way.

"You okay, Aer?" Josie prompted, elbowing him.

They were just passing the gate at the front of the school, for the third time that morning. They did at least two laps of the property most days, often more if Josie didn't have a morning class, as she didn't that day.

"I'm fine," Aeron replied, trying his best to return to the present. "Just tired."

"Nightmares?"

"Always."

Josie was quiet for a moment, miraculously. "You know, if you wanted to talk about them, you could. I know I'm not the best listener, but I swear I can shut up if it's important."

He wanted to; he really, really did. But there were too many things that Josie should never have to face, too many realities for Aeron that should only ever be stories for her. He wouldn't burden her, nor anyone else with his nightmares. "I know I can talk to you. I just don't need to. It's really not that bad."

Josie glanced sideways at him. "I know you're lying, and it's very rude of you. Not at all in the Christmas spirit."

That was right; there was some sort of festival holiday coming up. The kids went home from school for the week, and the Mikaelsons were due to hole up in the Armory. Aeron no longer felt compelled to wonder where he'd be spending vacations, knowing immediately that he'd be spending it right here with Josie's nosiness and the mate bond hanging over his head.

But Marcel and Elijah were coming, so he'd have plenty to occupy himself with.

"What actually happens for Christmas?" he asked. The sum total of his understanding had come from Liam and James's delirious spiels about gifts and turkey, the latter of which he'd thought was a Thanksgiving tradition.

"Well, everyone congregates here, obviously. It's a family thing. You get together, live in close quarters, exchange gifts, and hope no one kills each other. The last one isn't just a Mikaelson family tradition, surprisingly."

An alarming thought occurred to Aeron. "Do I have to get gifts for people?"

"We do a raffle. You'll be assigned one of the cousins as a Secret Santa thing, so you get them a gift in a certain price range. I'm sure Mom will take you shopping or help you order something online. And you'll get stuff from all the aunts and uncles."

"Why? It's a family thing, you said."

Josie rolled her eyes dramatically, elbowing him again. "Don't play dumb. It doesn't suit you."

Aeron hid his smile as they jogged on. It was a family thing, she was right. It was only natural that he should be there.

* * *

 _Now …_

Arbore was bustling with lesser fae, not a single High Fae in sight. There was a freedom to it that Hope was taken aback by, the fae unencumbered by the higher society but instead filled with working class fae, fae with vines for hair or scales for skin and eyes every colour of the rainbow (and some with no eyes at all).

Most surprising was that they didn't seem nearly as dangerous as she'd been warned. Then again, with the power that now lurked inside her, no one was really dangerous.

As well as not dangerous, the lesser fae of Arbore were remarkably loose-lipped, especially when offered coins. It didn't take long for Hope to determine that the Suriel was best found in the Western Woods, near the border with the Summer Court. Unfortunately there was nothing but woodland between Arbore and there, only bare, skeletal trees and sodden leaves.

And there was a storm brewing. Not a metaphorical one—a literal, gunmetal grey sky, rumbling ominously.

This was going to be fun.

* * *

It was not, in fact, fun.

Hope was soaked through to her bones, her wet trousers slapping against her skin with every step. Rivulets of freezing cold water dripped down the back of her shirt, chilling her spine.

She travelled for two days in a constant state of shivering. Even as she slept, her teeth chattered, preventing her from getting any decent rest.

The rain eased off on the third day, giving way to clear blue skies. The ground was still wet and treacherous in places, with mud that went down several inches and tripped her up more often than it didn't. But at least it wasn't still fucking raining.

Her luck continued when, that night, Hope scented smoke in the air. Smoke and something that melled a lot like frying bacon.

Her stomach growled in response, having only received berries and dried meats she'd purchased in Arbore for days. With a muttered, " _Invisique,"_ she made her way toward the scent, cloaked.

As she neared it, an amber glow lighting the woods, the scent of smoke and meat mingled with other scents: male High Fae. Three of them, all talking amongst themselves.

On the fire, the greased meat spat and hissed.

Hope's stomach roiled again, desperate for food. She'd survive without it, but she'd do much better with it. Especially given the second life she was supporting at the moment.

She briefly considered uncloaking herself and stepping forward, simply asking for help. She looked human enough, streaked with mud and struggling under the weight of her pack. Perhaps they would take pity on her.

Then she spotted their weapons, wickedly sharp and ragged and built not for show, but for the kill.

 _Shit._ She'd been forced to leave her own weapons behind long ago, unable to travel with Orin and Elfrea as the innocent human girl she was pretending to be if she had a Grey Guard's sword strapped to her back. She had nothing but her magic if she wanted to make a go of this.

But she'd killed so much already. She was on her way to kill again. How long before there was no coming back?

Biting back a sigh, Hope pulled away, leaving the warmth and light and food, returning instead to the cold dark.

* * *

After a measly meal of berries and nuts, Hope set up camp beneath a tree. The Autumn weather may have been harsher than she was used to, but she didn't want to risk a fire. Instead, she curled tight and muttered a warming spell, attaching it to her pack and holding that against her chest to keep her core warm. (As she slept, she pushed it down further, toward her hardening belly, as if on instinct.)

When she woke, it was to darkness, and the sound of a stick cracking underfoot.

Forcing her heartbeat to calm, Hope remained perfectly still and threw her senses out, trying to find the source of the noise.

Whatever it was, it was getting closer.

The three High Fae had tracked her here.

Sighing as though still asleep, Hope shifted, keeping her eyes closed. As she moved, seeming to roll around in her sleep, she reached beneath her and grabbed a fistful of spongy earth, the consistency of putty in her palm.

She waited, still and silent, until one of them was near enough to loom over her.

And then she struck.

She lashed out with one leg, knocking him off-balance as she threw the handful of dirt into the face of another. The third was too far to reach her, and by the time he'd stepped forward she had taken stock of the situation. As much as she needed to, anyway.

She cast a wordless aneurysm spell, one of the first she'd ever been taught. All three of them doubled over, clutching their heads and crying out.

"Attacking an innocent traveler on the road?" Hope asked, voice airy and light. "Shame on you."

Releasing one from the spell, Hope flicked her wrists and snapped the remaining two's necks, the resounding cracks satisfying her in a way she'd probably never admit to.

The remaining fae knelt on the earth, his face streaked with dirt from where she'd thrown it into his eyes. He was panting heavily, his sword dropped beside him. She kicked it away and stood before him.

"Who are you?" she demanded.

The fae winced as she flexed her fingers toward him, shying away a little so his dark hair fell over his face. "Just a traveler on the road."

"Why did you come after me?"

He almost smiled at that. "This is the Autumn Court," he said. "No mortal woman enters these borders without knowing what she's getting into. They all know not to make that kind of mistake."

"I'm not mortal, so I guess that was your mistake."

"You may not be mortal, bitch," said the fae, "but I'm willing to bet anything you'll still bleed."

She didn't see the dagger until it was too late.

* * *

 _Then …_

Aeron had never seen so much food in all his life.

He was sandwiched between the twins; Josie was busy stuffing her mouth with anything she could get her hands on and talking to Kol, who was seated on the other side of her, while Lizzie quietly picked at her own plate. She seemed to notice when Aeron was hesitant, when he came across something he didn't recognise. She spoke softly but clearly:

"Gravy's good with mashed potatoes, but don't mix it with the cranberry sauce."

"The mashed potatoes have rosemary in them, so they go well with the roast lamb."

"Don't get between Josie and the stuffing."

Aeron didn't realise how he'd come to rely on her commentary until after it was over and it was time for gifts, leaving her on the other side of the large library (where Caroline had set up the tree and pulled four libraries' worth of furniture in to make room for everyone).

Apparently they went in age order, from youngest to oldest. Freya expressed disappointment in this, but it was all good-natured as, while she may have been the oldest, her sons were the youngest.

Liam and James got all manner of gifts, mostly Xbox games and books on bugs and spiders. Lizzie and Josie got their gifts at the same time, Josie tearing them open while Lizzie took her time in order to preserve the wrapping paper.

Hope's gifts were all well-suited to her, spell books and grimoires, charm bracelets and rare paints. She thanked her aunts and uncles for each, obviously comfortable with the attention.

Aeron, on the other hand, was not.

Caroline ushered him into the designated gift-receiving chair, which was the same as all the others but with tinsel taped to it.

From Kol and Davina, he received a literal charm bracelet made of formerly cursed objects, accompanied with an assurance from Davina that a drop of blood on the metal would alert her to his need immediately.

From Rebekah and Marcel, he received a suit jacket from Marcel's tailor, "For when you come and visit, and we go out to dinner."

From Elijah and Hayley, he received a small electric piano he could use in his room when the one downstairs was unavailable, as well as a blank composition book for him to write his songs into.

From Freya and Keelin, he received a wireless headset that fit over his pointed ears comfortably.

And, finally, from Klaus and Caroline (mainly Caroline), he received only a thick envelope and a request to open it with her later.

And with that, they moved on.

* * *

It was later in the night, after the eggnog had all been lapped up and the Secret Santa gifts exchanged (Aeron gave Lizzie a book she'd been wanting, and he received a snow globe from Liam), that the noise inside became too much for Aeron. He slipped on a jacket and ducked out into the snow to gaze up at the stars.

The sound of the back door opening reached his ears, footsteps crunching over the snow towards him. Caroline dropped a blanket onto the ground, dropping beside him. "Gift time?" she asked.

"Uh, yeah," he said awkwardly, pulling the letter from his pocket. It was bent a little, but otherwise intact. He broke the seal, opening it carefully so as not to tear it. The card inside was handmade, a strip of ribbon stuck to the bottom and buttons creatively arranged to look like a reindeer.

Glancing up at Caroline, he flipped it open. A glossy brochure fell into his lap, but he ignored it in favour of reading the inscription inside, in what appeared to be Klaus's elegant handwriting:

 _To dear Aeron, on your first Christmas,_

 _It's about time you made your space your own. Enclosed you will find a brochure for a furniture and home decoration store. Implicit is our commitment to take you shopping to help you outfit your room more to your own tastes._

 _Here's to many Christmases to come,_

 _Klaus and Caroline_

Caroline grabbed the brochure from his lap, flipping it open to show him. "I've marked some that I think might work best, and as you can see there are some sets arranged in pictures to go together. But it's up to you. There isn't heaps of room in your bedroom, but there's plenty for a bigger bed, a new desk, maybe some bookshelves. It's up to you, obviously. But the room was made up for you when you first got here, and it's coming on your one-year anniversary of being with us and we thought it might be nice to come into the next year with your room personalised and everything."

"Thank you," he said, but it felt inadequate. This was definitely not a cheap gift. "I—I don't really know what to say."

Caroline put a hand on his shoulder. "You belong here, with us. Your room should show that. We would've done it earlier, but we didn't know if you'd want to go out shopping in public just yet. And if you still think you aren't ready—"

"I can do it," he assured her, and it was the truth. "I'm doing better now."

"I know you are, and we're really proud of you for it."

Aeron blinked back tears, looking down at the brochure on the blanket between them. "I don't know why you'd be proud of me. It's all you."

Sliding over to sit closer, Caroline tucked her arm fully around him. "Let's call it a team effort, huh?"

"Yeah," said Aeron. "That sounds good."

* * *

 _Now …_

Pain splashed up Hope's side like ice water even as the warmth of her blood slipped through the fingers she had sealed over the wound.

Grunting, Hope forced herself to sit up. The third fae was dead, mind turned to mush by the magic that lashed out instinctively when he slashed at her side with the dagger. She was all alone, bleeding into the mud.

She struggled to her feet, keeping her hand over her side as she swiped one of their weapons, a rusty, ragged blade roughly the length of her forearm. She grabbed her pack, hissing in pain as she pulled her arms through the straps.

Her werewolf healing would kick in and take care of the injury in time, she was sure, leaving her with no chance of infection setting in. She'd be fine.

She just had to get somewhere warm.

* * *

The upside of being hunted by fae was that they left their camp unattended to do it. She wasn't sure how they'd known she was there—perhaps her cloaking wasn't as good as she thought—but at least now she'd killed them because they deserved it, not because she just wanted some of their dinner.

Their camp was as she'd seen it before, the fire a bit duller. A muttered, " _Incendia,"_ took care of that, bringing the fire roaring back to life. She'd have to fetch more firewood at some point, but for now she had no intention of doing anything but eating, sleeping, and, hopefully, healing.

Speaking of eating, there was still some meat turning cold on the ground where they'd dropped the spit after carving off their own dinners. Hope fell to the earth beside it, grabbing a fistful of meat in one bloody hand and mashing it into her mouth with all the grace of a baby eating mashed potato.

 _Baby._

Panicked, Hope let the food drop from her mouth and she moved her hand from her injury to her belly as though it would help her discern the baby's health. She didn't think the cut was near enough to effect the child, but she didn't want to take any chances. She muttered a quick spell to confirm the baby's health, then dropped her hand back on her wound, satisfied that all was well.

She finished off the remainder of the carcass, finding the meat lukewarm but palatable. Hopefully it hadn't been cooled off for too long. It'd be a bit embarrassing to survive multiple successive attempts on her life only to be felled by salmonella.

With the food gone and the gash beginning to heal, Hope felt strong enough to sit up, removing her pack and digging through it for some warmer, mud-free clothes. She changed by the fire, draping her own clothes over one of the logs the fae had been seated on, hoping to wash them in the morning.

Mostly dry and fed, Hope cleaned off her cut, finding it paper-thin and no longer bleeding. Thank god for werewolf healing.

With nothing more to do, Hope found herself sitting by the fire, staring into the flames. Living in a modern world, she didn't spend much time around fire. She had air conditioning and heaters (and Aeron) for warmth, and fire was an unnecessary hazard they avoided at the Armory.

There was only one time of year they lit a fire, and that was bonfire season at Christmas. Her Uncle Kol's favourite tradition was casting wishes into the fire, and over time it had become one of hers, too.

The cardinal rule of burning wishes was, of course, that you never confessed your wish to anyone, else it wouldn't come true. Hope and Aeron had to settle for never saying it aloud, though they always knew what each other had wished for. That was just a perk of the mating bond.

The last bonfire season they'd had together, their wish had been the same thing. Something they'd been thinking about for months prior, but hadn't fully considered yet. Something that, in that moment, staring at each other's eyes across the fire, they'd both known was the right thing.

Satisfied that her wound was healed over, Hope moved both hands to cup her belly, feeling the way it had begun curving out. "Our wish came true," she told Aeron, hoping that somehow, some way, it made its way to him. "Just not how we wanted."

The old adage was true, she supposed. Be careful what you wish for.

* * *

 _Then …_

"Be careful what you wish for," Josie said ominously, her face cast orange as she stood close to the fire pit they'd started in the backyard. It was Boxing Day, the last day of their time together before people starting taking off in different directions to return to their lives. Elijah had chopped the wood with some help from Lizzie and James, and Kol had obsessively arranged the wood into the perfect set-up to light.

It had been lit, tainting the air of the entire property with a smoky flavour that Aeron found he didn't mind. Caroline was passing strips of paper and golf pencils out among them all to aid in the writing of wishes. As she passed Josie she nudged her daughter back from the flames a little, a knowing look passing between her and Alaric.

"All right," said Caroline. "You all know what to do."

Aeron had had this tradition explained to him at length, though he still had no idea what he'd write. He had safety, he had community, he had everything he could've wanted. Everything he'd never known he could want to start with.

Almost.

Across from him, Hope snuggled closer into David's side, making a show of hiding her piece of paper from him. He and his fathers had joined them for Boxing Day celebrations, mostly consisting of eating leftovers and mixing up more eggnog. Throughout it all, Hope and David had been inseparable.

Aeron snapped his gaze away from Hope and David, finding Caroline looking at him. She gave him an encouraging thumbs up.

Taking a deep breath, he began to write.

 _I wish for self-control._

* * *

 _Now …_

The Autumn Court woods weren't exactly crawling with chickens, so Hope had to settle for capturing three jungle fowl and setting them up in a row, freshly slaughtered. Hopefully their resemblance to chickens would be enough to draw out the Suriel.

She set herself up in a nearby tree, dressed in trousers and a tunic with arm-guards and weapons scavenged from her attackers. Any of their other armour had no hope of fitting her, so she had to make do with a rusty blade and old, smelly leather guards fastened over her wrists.

She stayed in position all day, watching the sun sink over the horizon even as her heart sank in her chest. She'd hoped that this, at least, would be easy. Apparently there was no such luck in store for her.

Grunting through the pain of her stiff muscles, Hope ducked down out of the tree, landing on the drier leaves with a _crunch_. The wind had turned brittle and cold, whipping through the clearing and tearing her hair free of its braid.

Just as she began to step toward the fowl (she might as well eat them, given how hungry she was), a cloaked figure materialised in the distance, stalking towards the slaughtered birds.

Hope sank to her haunches in the dirt, one hand braced on the ground for balance and the other drawing the sword from her belt. The Suriel neared the chickens, stepping right in the double-looped snare she'd set to trap it.

" _Obstringere,"_ she whispered, watching the snare tighten around its feet. She was surprised to see that the Suriel didn't struggle, merely stood stock still as though this was completely expected.

Hope straightened, readjusting her grip on the blade as she stalked towards the Suriel.

"Hope Mikaelson," it greeted, its voice like a harsh hiss. The cloak was ragged at the edges, revealing clawed feet and hands and withered skin. Yellowing eyes that peered out from beneath the hood. "How unexpected."

"You saw me coming?" she asked. "Then why—"

"You would have found me, whether I stepped into your trap or not. This was the simplest way to get to the inevitable ending of our association." It smirked as much as a mouthless monster could. "I know you've come to kill me, Wolfwitch, and I know why."

Hope blinked. She'd been expecting resistance, at least. If the Suriel knew what she intended to do, then why just allow it like this? It made no sense. "Then you understand that I don't want to do this."

"You've been doing plenty of things you don't want to, Wolfwitch. Are you truly going to pretend that you aren't enjoying it?"

"I'm running for my life with a baby that half of this damned continent seems to want dead. What about that sounds enjoyable?"

"You're a predator, Hope Mikaelson. A predator finally given an opportunity to hunt. Are you saying you couldn't have stopped those fae from coming after you yesterday without killing them? You possess magic unlike anything this world has ever seen. Aside from your mission to protect the secret in your womb, you can let anyone live that you wish. So why kill them?"

Hope bit her tongue. The truth was, she'd gotten used to it, to the killing. She'd almost relished the chance to go back to it after the break in Velaris, lying her way to High Lady Feyre's tent. Deception was harder than killing. "I'm not here to answer your questions," said Hope. "That's not how this works. You have to answer mine, and tell me the truth, don't you?"

The Suriel inclined its head. "Stalling my death, are you?"

"You know about my baby, don't you?"

"Yes."

"You know who its father is."

"Aeron Mikaelson, the male who took your name and your heart. A curious match, the two of you. Improbable, certainly. But it would seem that defying the odds is a trait you both share."

"Who else knows about this baby?"

"Every Priestess that knew is now dead, courtesy of your quick action. Jora remains aware, and intends to seek you both."

So Jora was alive, then. "And where is he now?"

"Hiding out in the Dawn Court. He has old friends there, helping him rebuild his forces and prepare to locate you again."

"How does he intend to do that?"

"It isn't hard to hunt a human in these lands, Wolfwitch. You may be more than that, but to all who look upon you, that is what you appear to be. Word will spread of your presence in Arbore, on the road here. The mated pair you travelled to Velaris with will recall the red-haired human they helped bring before the High Lady, and they will speak of you. You can kill as many people as you like, but you cannot kill gossip."

"But there's no magical means for him to track me down?"

"Not presently in his possession, no. But that doesn't mean he won't find one, or make it himself."

"How powerful is he? Does he have any weaknesses?"

"He is a thousand-year-old High Fae. He's as powerful as any of his age and kind, and possesses the same weaknesses. Ash will kill him, and faebane will weaken him. Both will be difficult to locate, of course. The greatest faebane caches are in the Summer Court's possession, and ash trees only grow under guard in the Dawn Court. You'd have a hard time getting at either without being detected."

"But I've killed High Fae with my magic before. One burned to death, others beheaded. They seemed pretty dead to me."

"Ash is the simplest way to kill them, not the only. They won't survive burning, true, nor beheadings. There are things they cannot recover from."

She could make that work. The only obstacle was the baby growing at a steady rate, and the fact that her days of easy travel were numbered. Though she already had an idea of exactly how she wanted Jora to pay …

"Where is the third Suriel?" she demanded. "I've heard that it hasn't been seen in some time, but you must know, surely."

"I lost track of my sibling some time ago, I'm afraid. One was killed in defence of the Cursebreaker, and the other went missing an eon ago. I cannot locate it."

"Will anyone else be able to?"

"It's unlikely."

"How unlikely?"

"If you cannot find the third Suriel, then no one else will be able to." The Suriel sighed. "Do you intend to kill me, Wolfwitch? The questions are tiring."

"Why are you so calm about your death? Shouldn't you be fighting it?"

"I have known you would kill me for some time, Wolfwitch. I have known the how, the why, the when. Why do you think I have lingered so long in the Autumn Court, letting knowledge of my presence here be made public? I knew you would seek me out. My death at your hand is as inevitable as the sunset we now witness. It is useless to fight this fate."

Hope tightened her grip on the blade. She had to do this soon, before she lost her nerve. "Will my baby be safe?"

"I see flashes of truth regarding your son, but none of it is definite as yet."

 _Son._ "You know that it's a boy?"

"Yes."

Hope felt as though the breath had been punched from her, dizzy and breathless. She was having a son. She was having a son, and she was about to kill someone with him still inside her. "How will I kill you?"

"You will sever my head from my body. I will feel nothing."

Inexplicably, Hope found herself blinking back tears. "If I let you live," she said, voice raw, "will you tell anyone about this?"

"If you let me live, Wolfwitch, I will have no choice. By now, news of the deaths of the Priestesses and their acolytes has spread, reaching the High Lords and Ladies of Prythian. The hunt for answers will inevitably send them to me, and I will have no choice but to comply with their demands for the truth."

"You could leave. Go somewhere far away, somewhere they can't find you."

"Prythian has been my home for millennia. I will not leave it."

"But—"

"It is my nature to reveal secrets, Wolfwitch. It is now your nature to keep them. Why has killing became so difficult for you now, I wonder?"

"You're not fighting," said Hope. "You're just standing there, letting this happen. I can't—I can't do this and tell myself that it's right. Not when you just accept death like this. You're not even threatening me."

"And yet I am _a threat_ , Wolfwitch. And that you cannot tolerate." The Suriel straightened its back. "Do as you will, Hope Mikaelson."

"Please, at least tell me that this will work. Tell me that I'll succeed, that I can go home. Tell me _how_ to go home, please—"

"There is currently no way for you to cross back into your world. Only your mate can winnow across the divide, and it is he who must gather the strength to come to you."

"Promise me this will be fine."

"I can only speak the truth, Wolfwitch. I cannot create it."

"I can't do this," Hope protested. "You're not even fighting. I can't do this. I'm not like my father. I can't be ruthless like this."

"You can, and you will. For your son."

Hope closed her eyes, feeling the tears run down her cheeks. "Please, at least tell me that this will end."

"Your family's legacy lives on in you, and that will never change. You know that." The Suriel tipped its head back, glancing at the sky with a look like wonder on its face. Then it looked back to her. "I am ready."

Hope watched in horror as the Suriel laid on the ground, its legs still bound. It was perfectly placed for her to sever its head.

This wasn't right, it wasn't like the others, it wasn't fair—

Biting back her fear, Hope steeled herself. "Do you—is there anything more you'd like to say?"

The Suriel gave a lipless smile, the gash where its mouth should be widening. "The first thing my kind knows is its final words, Wolfwitch," it said. "And I have been waiting for my final words for a long time. Waiting for you."

Hope brought both hands onto the hilt, drawing the blade over her head.

The Suriel did not break her gaze. "The more you drink from the well, Hope Mikaelson, the higher the waters will rise."

She let the blade drop.

* * *

 **The next volume should be up in a day or so. Let me know what you thought!**


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